He could see the tension building in her face. She was trying hard to keep her emotions hidden, but her green eyes flickered with determination and a hundred other emotions.
“I must remain here, even if my prayers are not answered,” she said. “It is not, however, safe here for you. I fear there will be trouble. You should return to the fort.”
He knew what kind of trouble she meant. Running Wolf was watching them intently. He had made a promise to his chief to put away his tomahawk and his anger, but “accidents” could happen. In fact, one already had. And if one were to happen again, how would the men at the fort respond, and likewise the tribe? Captain Lewis’s words repeated through his mind: “We are sixteen hundred miles up the Missouri. No one will come to our aid...”
He hated this feeling of being caught between two nations. “I fear it is not safe for you,” Pierre said. “Come with...us.” With me, he almost said.
She shook her head. “They are my people, and this is my mother’s decision. I must remain.”
My people. Your people. Why must the world be divided in such a way? But her mind and that of her mother’s were firmly decided, and when Captain Lewis returned a moment later, she told him so.
“Very well, mademoiselle,” he said, though the tone of his voice expressed his reluctance, as well. “Should you have need of anything, send word immediately.”
“Merci, Captain. I will do so.”
Lewis then looked at him. “Mr. Lafayette...” It was an unspoken order but one he knew he must obey. His captain had bid him leave. So had she. As much as Pierre wanted to remain, he knew he couldn’t. After one last look at her, he turned away and walked out of the lodge.
The midnight sky was clear and cold, a black velvet canopy studded with a billion diamond-like stars. Usually it was a sight to take his breath away, make him stand in awe of the majesty and timelessness of the Lord. Tonight, however, it boded uncertainty. Evening Sky believed God would intervene. If Providence was to bring healing to this place, of both body and soul, Pierre prayed He would do it quickly.
* * *
Claire had never spent a more lonely or desperate night. When Little Flower had returned from the medicine dance, she had shown concern for Evening Sky and an eagerness to be of assistance. At once she took to brewing tea and pounding yarrow in preparation for poultices to stave off infection in Evening Sky’s outer wound. Claire was careful to keep the details of the accident to a minimum. How could she tell her cousin that the damage to her aunt was of her own father’s making?
But word in the village traveled fast. When the rest of the family arrived, they all knew what had happened, and they all knew why. Claire and Evening Sky would not worship in the ways of their ancestors, and according to whispers among the other cousins, the spirits were angry.
She was angry herself. It was bad enough when Running Wolf had been threatening Claire. But drawing his tomahawk on Pierre? Injuring his own sister in the process? Claire knew he acted in ignorance and superstition, and she knew she must forgive him for doing so, but oh, the difficulty!
It all seems so futile! Phillip Granger, her uncle’s marital arrangements for her... Every time she committed herself to forgiving, to trusting God with her future, things seemed only to get worse! And now her mother insisted on remaining here in this lodge, so confident that God would intervene in her condition. Would He? Or would He disappoint her just as Pierre had done tonight?
She told herself she should not be thinking such things of the Almighty or the Frenchman. Even if Pierre Lafayette had wanted her—which he didn’t—there could never be anything between them. Running Wolf had marked him as an enemy. She had tried to put such foolish thoughts of him rescuing her, of him wanting her as a wife, far from her mind, but every time she saw him, she found herself drawn closer to him.
He had come tonight to inquire of her safety. He had sought to defend her honor, and the comfort he gave when he had touched her made Claire want to seek the shelter of his arms and never leave them. But he had sworn to her chief right in front of her that he had no desire to marry her. He would be her friend, her assistant in dealing with the captains and their medical help, but nothing more.
God help me...fill me with Your strength...Your love...Your forgiveness. I cannot live without it.
Running Wolf watched her all night with a stoic expression. He showed little enthusiasm when his son-in-law Two Bulls announced the triumph of the dance and boasted that there would be many buffalo to hunt come spring. Running Wolf simply claimed his honored place by the center fire and sat in brooding silence. What he was thinking, Claire could not tell.
Pallets were soon placed. Children were put to bed. The men finished their stories, and after making the necessary preparations for morning food, the women settled in for the night, as well.
Claire alone remained awake. Beside her Evening Sky now slept, although her grimaces when she moved told Claire her rest was anything but peaceful. Claire’s own breath hitched every time she observed the pain-filled expression.
Father God, my mother believes You will bring healing. Please do so... Please...
Outside the lodge, the wind howled viciously. Claire’s eyes burned from exhaustion, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not settle. Her thoughts drifted endlessly from her mother to her uncle, to God and to Pierre.
Sunrise came and with it the duties of the day. There was snow to be gathered for water, corn to be mashed. There were hides to tan and children to feed. Running Wolf spent the day sipping ceremonial tea at the fire and conversing with the other warriors of the village. While he and the rest of the family were out, and Claire was changing the dressing on Evening Sky’s wound, Captain Lewis paid a call.
This time he had brought Toussaint Charbonneau as his translator. Claire understood the wisdom of such a decision, but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that it was Sacagawea’s husband who now stood in Pierre’s place.
It is better this way, she told herself, for everyone.
As the captain examined Evening Sky’s wound, Claire asked Charbonneau about his wife. “Her time is soon, yes?”
He nodded and then grinned broadly. “A few more weeks, then I shall have a son.”
He boasted of what every man on the plains wished for, a child to continue his name, further his legacy. Claire wondered if he would be as proud if the baby turned out to be a girl.
“I pray that all goes well with Sacagawea and that she is delivered of the child quickly.”
Charbonneau nodded.
As for Claire’s mother, the yarrow seemed to be helping her injury. The internal illness, however, was making its presence known now by more than just the swollen abdomen. Her mother’s color was an odd shade. Captain Lewis asked how she had slept.
“Fitfully,” Claire said.
From his kit the captain retrieved several small packets of powder. “If the willow bark isn’t enough for the pain then give her these.” He handed them to Claire, then added, “I have something for you, as well.”
He handed her a letter. It was sealed, but Claire recognized the outer handwriting. She knew immediately who it was from. Her heart swelled even though she told herself it shouldn’t.
“M-merci, Captain,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Knowing Running Wolf could return any moment, Claire slid the letter inside her moccasin. The men took their leave.
Not a moment after they had gone, her uncle returned. Walks with the Sun, the medicine man, was with him, so was his son, Golden Hawk. Both men were dressed in their finest array, with their highly decorated spirit sticks in hand.
Claire recognized their intentions even before her uncle announced them. Running Wolf had brought Walks with the Sun to say an incantation over his sister. The incantations had no power, but if God did choose to heal Evening Sky,
Running Wolf and the others would be convinced their own rituals had caused the change.
Lord, what do I do? What do I say? She had promised Black Cat that she would not speak of spiritual matters unless spoken to. If she protested, Running Wolf could turn both her and her mother out of the village for good. They could seek shelter at the fort, yes, but even that would be only temporary. Besides, it would break her mother’s heart to leave her family. It would break Claire’s, also.
Despite her pain, Evening Sky was alert, and she pushed to her elbows. “Brother, you honor me with your presence,” she said most respectfully.
He nodded to her, then gestured toward his guests. “They are my honored gift to you, sister.”
“I know, and I am most grateful.” She paused for the space of a heartbeat. “However, I cannot accept.”
Running Wolf looked confused.
“To do so would be an affront to my God,” she explained.
His look moved to a scowl. “Yet you would accept the white man’s spells?” He pointed to the packets in Claire’s hands. “You accept the chants of the white chief in the three-cornered hat?”
Claire would curse herself if she thought it would help the situation. Why had she not hidden the captain’s powders along with Pierre’s letter? Once again she had allowed herself to become distracted. What would be the cost this time?
“They are not chants, brother,” Evening Sky insisted. “And the powder is little more than our willow bark.”
He turned to Walks with the Sun. “You see?”
The medicine man nodded. His disapproval and his son’s were most evident.
“If you are so against them, brother, I will not take the powders.”
What? Claire thought.
This seemed to please Running Wolf, and it certainly pleased the medicine men. They nodded affirmatively. Claire, however, was anything but pleased. “Mother...the pain...”
“God will sustain me, daughter,” Evening Sky said, and then she looked her brother fully in the face. “You shall see.”
Chapter Ten
It was well after midnight and the lodge was full of snoring. Evening Sky now slept, as did the rest of her family. With that relative privacy, Claire took the opportunity to open Pierre’s letter.
“Dear Claire...”
It was little more than a greeting of cordiality, of friendship, but the phrase warmed her heart all the same. Pierre’s handwriting was bold and precise, yet fluid, the mark of a highly educated gentleman. A man who does not belong here. A man who has vast dreams, as endless as the western sky.
She studied his script in the flickering firelight.
It is with great regret that I pen these words. Perhaps I should not risk writing them at all, let alone having them delivered, but I was compelled to offer my sincerest apologies for what has occurred...
He went on to say how sorry he was for all that had happened to her and her mother.
Had I, a white man, not come into your lodge the night of the medicine dance, then perhaps Running Wolf would not have become so enraged and your mother would not have become injured.
He was probably correct in assuming that, but Claire did not begrudge his intrusion. Had he not come, she would not have learned of her mother’s true physical condition, and he would not have been there to steady her when she did.
Oh, how she had needed his encouragement in that moment. When Captain Lewis declared nothing could be done except treat her mother’s pain, Claire thought her own life would drain out of her. Were it not for the steady look in Pierre’s eyes, she was certain her knees would have buckled. He might be bound by the expedition’s code not to interfere in tribal matters, but he had transmitted his compassion nevertheless.
Pain raked her heart afresh, but Claire forced herself to keep reading. He informed her that Captain Lewis had insisted he stay away from the village, at least for a few days, in order to be certain Running Wolf’s anger toward him had abated. Pierre promised that he was with her in spirit. “I am praying for you...” and in hopes of offering her encouragement, he had enclosed several pages that he had removed from his own Bible. He’d sent her the book of Philippians and had marked a particular verse.
“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus...”
Claire clutched the paper to her chest. Supply all my needs... It had been difficult to believe such things when marriage and complete assimilation into the tribe were her only concerns. Those matters paled in comparison to what burdened her now. She knew God was not one to broker deals, but she’d pay any price for the return of her mother’s health.
Evening Sky stirred in her sleep. She grimaced as the pain of both her external wound and internal ones intensified. Claire pulled the buffalo robe to her mother’s chin, then lightly stroked her hair.
“‘My God shall supply all your need...’” She repeated the verse softly, forcing herself to believe. Whether her mother heard or not she did not know.
Sunrise came and the lodge stirred to life. Although normally chatty and pleasant, Little Flower seemed distant this morning. She was not the only one. Spotted Eagle and River Song offered no hugs or accounts of their previous evening’s dreams. They spoke not a word to her or to Evening Sky as they breakfasted around the fire. In fact, Spotted Eagle would not even look at them.
What has happened? Has Running Wolf told our family not to speak to us?
Claire supposed she should have suspected such a thing, especially after she had declared she would still speak the name of Jesus if asked. And now that Mother has refused the medicine man’s chants...what difficulties lie ahead?
Swallowing her fears, Claire whispered a prayer and continued with her tasks as she always did. Her family might not be speaking to her, but she would still continue to speak to them.
“Come, River Song,” she said cheerfully, “let me wipe your face. Your great aunt is in need of rest this morning.”
The child obeyed. She even giggled when Claire touched the warm cloth to her skin. Spotted Eagle, however, came and stole her away.
“We stay on this side of the lodge, sister,” he told the girl.
Claire swallowed back her hurt, then took a bowl of corn to her mother. Evening Sky was now awake but managed only a spoonful of food.
“That’s all, Bright Star. Thank you.”
“Some tea?” Claire asked hopefully.
“No. Just let me rest.”
Reluctantly Claire returned to the center fire. As soon as she did, Little Flower gathered up her children and took them outside. Evening Sky returned to sleep. Claire did her best to go about her usual routine, but the stillness of the lodge was heartbreaking. She was sitting by the fire, grinding dried corn, when Three Horses, a respected warrior of about Running Wolf’s age, stepped into the lodge. Silencing her mortar and pestle, Claire immediately nodded to the man.
“My uncle is not here, honored one. He has gone to the lodge of our chief.”
“I come not for him,” Three Horses said. “I come to speak with you.”
Claire couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “With me?” What would he want with her?
Laying aside her tools, she stood and invited Three Horses to claim a seat beside the fire. He declined.
“Come,” he motioned. “See my son.”
Claire hesitated slightly, but knowing a warrior’s command could not be easily dismissed, she laid another blanket over her mother and followed Three Horses to his home. His teenage son, Black Raven, had recently suffered a severe case of frostbite to his toes while staying overnight to hunt on the prairie. Three Horses had gone to the fort for assistance. Claire wondered if the captains’ treatment of the boy had failed.
And if it has, why is he calling upon me? Had word gotten around the vi
llage already that she and her mother had turned away the medicine man? Did Three Horses believe Claire’s God more powerful?
She stepped into the warrior’s lodge. Three Horses’s wife, Cries Like a Dove, sat beside her son’s pallet. A worried expression filled her face.
“Show her,” her husband said.
As Cries Like a Dove lifted the buffalo skin from her son’s feet, Claire sucked in a breath. The toes of one had turned completely black.
“The white Chief with the beaver skin hat said this could happen,” Three Horses said. “That if it does then the toes must come off.”
Claire winced.
“Do you believe this to be true?” he asked.
She did not wish for it to be so, but even she could tell something must be done, and Captain Clark had much more expertise in this area than she. “If that is what he said, then yes, I believe it to be so. He is an honorable man. He would not wish to inflict pain upon your son.”
“But there will be pain,” Cries Like a Dove said.
Claire hated to be the bearer of such bad news, for this family had suffered through more hard times than most in this village. Cries Like a Dove had once been called by a different name—She Who Smiles, but smiles had turned to tears after the loss of not one but four children, all before they had seen the light of day. She was pregnant once again, and Claire prayed the circumstances would be different this time.
“But you believe there will be worse pain if nothing is done,” Three Horses said to her. She nodded her agreement.
While husband and wife discussed the matter further, Claire knelt before Black Raven’s pallet. “You are a strong young warrior,” she said.
The boy tried to smile, but she could see the fear in his eyes.
“Will you pray to your God that He will grant favor, that I will soon be hunting again?”
Her heart was touched with encouragement. She tried to offer Black Raven the same. “Yes. I will gladly pray to my God. It will be my privilege to speak to Him on your behalf.”
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