In all honesty, Pierre hadn’t even thought of that. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Then you had better go and find out.”
Chapter Fifteen
Claire did her best to rein in her emotions as Sacagawea handed her a cup of tea. Her hands were still shaking. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Sacagawea nodded gracefully. “Drink,” she said, “and then there is more.”
Claire could barely swallow what she had, but she was determined to honor her hostess by partaking of the young mother’s kindness. Sacagawea smiled at her sweetly. How much of Claire’s story she knew, she did not let on, but Claire realized she could indeed relate. Sacagawea had been taken from her family, a captive, a prisoner of war, when she was but a child. She and Otter Woman had been claimed by a man old enough to be their father, almost their grandfather.
Claire, however, had never once heard Sacagawea complain about Charbonneau or his second wife, but she could not help but wonder if the young woman had ever wished for something more. Had she wished for a dashing young man who would make her heart thump? Had she wished for love?
Or did she simply accept her fate and try to make the best of it? Part of Claire wanted to ask, but the girl was two years younger than she, and Claire wasn’t about to burden her with her troubles. Sacagawea had enough of her own. She was about to trek into the wilderness with a baby not yet two months old.
Little Jean Baptiste cried from his place on his mother’s pallet. Sacagawea immediately picked him up, cuddled him close. “Ah, Pomp, do not cry. You shall upset our honored guest.”
“I assure you, he will not,” Claire said, doing her best to smile.
Sacagawea smiled back and handed her the baby, as if the simple act of holding a little one could right everything wrong in the world. Claire took the boy willingly but felt no joy. The dark-haired child was half French, half Indian. What future lies in store for him?
Her conscience was pricked. She had left another child back in the village, a child she was supposed to be caring for during her friend’s recovery.
In the midst of my personal quandary, I abandoned them. Then another thought pressed her mind. Had she abandoned her family, as well? If their eternity is so important to me, shouldn’t I have stayed with them, despite the cost? Wouldn’t I have done whatever necessary, instead of seeking a way of escape?
Claire closed her eyes. Guilt raked her soul. I have allowed myself to become distracted by my own plight. She told herself she had not come looking for Pierre, that he had found her, that he had brought her here, but she knew full well she had hoped he would find her.
I shamelessly threw myself into his arms. She could feel herself blush from head to toe. He said he would take care of the situation, but how? Will he go to Running Wolf? Will they face each other in anger? Will there be bloodshed? Will it entangle other members of the tribe?
She shuddered at the thought. The men of the expedition had weapons far more advanced than Mandan knives and arrows. If forced to use them, then the American captains’ hopes of peaceful relations would forever be lost.
Those who are of like mind stay together, she thought. Surely neighboring tribes would set aside personal differences and rally against the whites. There would be all-out war. She felt light-headed at the thought, and her stomach rolled. Oh God...please...tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything...anything...
Sacagawea touched her on the shoulder. “Do not fret, Bright Star. All will be well in time.”
Her mother’s word echoed in her mind. “Trust...”
Claire drew in a ragged breath. Either God loves me or He doesn’t. Either He is with me or He isn’t. She knew the truth, and thinking on it, a certain peace settled over Claire. I must return home. I am not supposed to be here. I must return home.
There was a knock on the door. Sacagawea rose to answer it. It was Pierre. He looked sheepish and uncomfortable.
“Come. Sit by the fire,” Sacagawea beckoned, but he declined. Sensing a desire for privacy on Pierre’s part, the mother then reclaimed her child. Bundling little Jean Baptiste in a buffalo skin, she left the room.
Claire wished she had stayed. What am I to say to him? I have acted so selfishly and stupidly.
He was not happy. She could tell by the look in his eyes. He cleared his throat and then rubbed his whiskered face. “I have just come from speaking with Captain Lewis,” he said. “I asked if you might join our expedition.”
Join? Had she heard him correctly?
“But he said no...for various reasons.”
He did not elaborate on what those reasons were, and Claire did not question them. Her mind was still trying to process the fact that he had actually gone to the captains and asked such a thing on her behalf.
And they said no. Was that why he wasn’t happy? Did he want to her to come with him? Did he want her to do so for reasons that went far beyond chivalrous protection? Her heart quickened. Her mouth went dry. Were her feelings for him reciprocated? She had at times thought perhaps they might be. There were times when he looked at her that way—
He was speaking again. Claire tried to process the words. “I then asked Captain Lewis if we might return to Saint Louis on the keelboat.” He cleared his throat once more. “With you as...my wife. The captain agreed to that.”
A surge like lightning jolted through her, but the thrill of the words my wife was quickly tempered by the context.
Pierre’s face was stoic, not at all the expression of a young man in love. Now she understood the cause of his unhappiness. He would claim her. He would protect her. He was willing to become a dutiful, dependable husband, but to do so, he would have to give up his dream.
Laying aside a dream because it no longer fit one’s frame was one thing. Being forced to put it away because of someone else, someone you could live without, was quite another. As much as she would have loved to carry his name, his children, she could not allow him to do this. She could never live with herself if she did.
I have to go home. Hadn’t she just been so certain of that fact? Hadn’t she just felt a peace about doing so, one that defied all reason and logic? Why didn’t she feel it as strongly now?
The French side of her felt she would explode with emotions, all of them conflicting. The Mandan part of her kept them carefully contained. “You have honored me greatly with your offer,” she said quietly, although she nearly choked on the words. “However, I must decline.”
A look of disbelief flooded his face. At first she thought it was born of concern, and then she realized it was something else entirely. It was arrogance. “Decline?” he said. “You came to me frantic, in tears, and then, when I offer you a solution, you choose not to accept it?”
Perhaps she deserved the rebuke, but she didn’t like the attitude with which it had been delivered. Her own ire was raised. What did he expect, that she should fall down on her knees and thank him? Did he think she should accept him just because he had asked? If he did, then he was little better than the men of her tribe.
“Have you nothing else to say?” he asked.
Oh, she did. She had plenty to say, but she couldn’t decide if she wanted to rail at him or confess her love. Neither is the appropriate response. God, help me... I want to follow Your path.
She drew in a breath and spoke with the most controlled voice she could muster. “I have been weak in my faith. I was frightened. It was wrong of me to involve you in this. Please forgive me for doing so.”
“That is not the issue, Claire. My forgiveness, whether needed or not, won’t change your circumstances.”
Why must he make this so difficult? “No, it won’t, but the fact remains that I will not accept your offer of marriage. I cannot accept it.”
“You cannot?”
“If you give up your place on th
e expedition, if you leave now and return to Saint Louis on the keelboat, you will be no better off than when you left New Orleans.”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“You will lose your land grant.”
She saw his jaw twitch. Had he not thought of that before? Had Captain Lewis failed to remind him? “You are a man who wishes to make something of himself,” she said.
“I’d like to think that I already have made something of myself.”
She heard the bite in his tone. He had obviously taken what she’d said in the wrong way. It wasn’t that she would not marry a man without property. That was not what was important to her. “I do not wish to offend you, Pierre. I greatly appreciate your willingness to make such a sacrifice...but I must return to my family.”
“So you can become wife to Golden Hawk? You think your life will be better with him? Or will you become a second wife to Three Horses?”
“No,” she said firmly. That much, at least, she did know. “I will speak to Three Horses. I will speak to my uncle. I will press my case to Chief Black Cat if necessary.”
“You have done that already,” he said, “and you have failed.”
“Then I will do so again,”
“And if you fail again?”
To that she said nothing.
“Why must you be so stubborn?” he asked. “Why must you insist on having your own way?”
His patience was wearing thin. So was her resolve. She had to remain steadfast or else he would regret it one day. The Pacific Ocean, the possibility of “what if,” would haunt his thoughts. And it would be her fault. She would not allow herself to cost him his dreams.
“Why are you so intent on having your own?” she asked. “You do not offer yourself in love, but duty. Did you not leave New Orleans to escape a similar fate? How long would it be before you tired of me?”
With that he looked thoroughly confused. “What is it exactly that you want?” he asked.
Claire swallowed back the lump filling her throat. She knew she had to say goodbye. The longer she lingered, the harder it would be. “What I want most, you cannot give me.”
She bolstered her resolve with formality. She could not confess her love for him, confess she would sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of his. “I thank you for your offer of marriage, Mr. Lafayette, but regretfully, I must decline.”
She dared not read his expression now. With a quick curtsy, she hurried then to the door.
* * *
As Pierre stood in the hut where they had first forged their friendship, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or rebuffed, appreciative or angered. He had offered Claire his hand in marriage, something he swore he’d never do unless he was truly deeply in love.
And she refused me! Stubborn to the last! Determined to handle things on her own!
So be it, then. He had done all he could do to help her. If she doesn’t want my help, if she doesn’t think I’ve yet made enough of myself, there are plenty of women back in lower Louisiana who do!
And at that, he recognized the real cause of his anger. His pride was wounded. Having fallen prey to such a sin, he raked his fingers though his unruly hair. I am better than this...or at least, I should be. He inwardly groaned. Now self-pity was advancing. What was it about the woman that made him feel so conflicted, so addlepated, so weak in reason? He had never acted this way before. Lewis had asked if he was in love. Pierre had insisted he was not, and if scattered thoughts and wayward emotions were a precursor to such a condition, then he never wished to experience them further. I will put Claire Manette from my mind once and for all. It may take me from here to the Pacific to do so, but I will do it.
Yet he knew he was only fooling himself. He’d never forget her. He’d never be able to stop worrying about her, and every Indian woman he met as he journeyed westward would remind him of her.
Pierre sighed. What will happen to her? Evening Sky had once insisted that God would bring healing. Would He bring healing to Running Wolf’s heart? Could a medicine man’s son eventually come to exchange a lifetime of spirit worship for the worship of the true Great Spirit?
All he knew was that such things were out of his control. “Lord, take care of her,” he whispered, and with that he exited the hut.
Outside the main gate was shut tight. Claire was presumably on her way back to the village. Thinking of such, Pierre felt an unmistakable pang to his chest.
Captain Lewis stepped from his quarters. Meeting Pierre in the middle of the parade ground, he asked, “Well?”
“She said no.” The pang in Pierre’s chest intensified. Now it was more of a sharp pain, like the cut of a knife. Inadvertently he rubbed his ribs. Perhaps I am growing ill, he thought, maybe an ague, or perhaps I’ve eaten tainted meat. Whatever it was, he hoped it would soon pass.
“Then I presume you will continue westward?” Lewis inquired emotionlessly.
“Yes, sir,” Pierre said, but the words nearly died on his lips.
The officer nodded curtly. Obviously he was ready to move on to other matters. “Report, then, to Captain Clark. He’s in the grove, overseeing the construction of the new pirogues.”
“Yes, sir.” Pierre didn’t hint at his oncoming illness. It was a luxury the expedition could not afford. Whatever it is, I’ll simply work through it.
He headed for the gate. Upon its opening, he started up the hill. The wind was hard and cold today, but the ground was softening. Winter was reluctantly giving way to spring. If the weather cooperated, the expedition planned to leave in two weeks’ time. If God grants us safety and success on our journey, we’ll pass this way again.
He couldn’t help but again wonder in what condition he would find Claire. Would he find her an ostracized loner, or the unhappy wife of the medicine man’s son? There was a third possibility. One or more of the warriors could come to Christ. She may be able to seek a husband of her own liking. A year or two from now, he might find her the happy wife of a Mandan Christian, and with a child.
He wasn’t sure why, but that last image disturbed him as much as the others.
Determined to soldier on, he continued up the hill. His fellow expedition members were hard at work digging out the canoes. Pierre had been around boats most of his life and could tell immediately the timber they were using was not the best quality. They were making do with what they had, but the pirogues would not last long.
We’ll be digging new ones again soon, he thought. The idea did not appeal to him. Even the thought of taking the canoes into the river and experiencing the vast unknown failed to lift his spirit. Work today seemed like drudgery. Nevertheless, he picked up an ax and began to chop. The illness he had previously felt gave way to determination. His comrades were by no means lazy, but it soon became apparent that Pierre was outpacing them.
“Better stay out of Lafayette’s way,” Colter remarked. “He’s liable to take your foot or arm off, as well.”
The men laughed.
“Got his anger flowing,” Howard said. “What’s amiss, Frenchie? You get into a fight with that pretty little squaw of yours? She refuse to give you a kiss?”
Pierre immediately stilled his ax, shot Howard a glare for his caddish remark. It was nothing like that—but if Howard has any idea of attempting to stake his own claim...
Colter sensed Pierre’s unspoken threat and nudged his comrade on the shoulder. Taking post at their canoe, Captain Clark issued a silent warning. Colter and Howard returned to work. After a moment, so did Pierre.
Chop. Chop. Chop... All Pierre allowed himself to focus on was that simple motion.
When Captain Clark was satisfied all was in order, he left to visit one of the chiefs in the northern village. Pierre and the rest of the men continued to work. It wasn’t until twilight that they walked back to the fo
rt. Supper was short and quiet. Pierre’s arms and back were aching. He was certain he was tired enough to fall into bed and find sleep at once.
Captain Lewis had other plans for him. Whether Pierre had actually impressed the officer with the pace and quality of his work today or Lewis was simply trying to keep him occupied, he did not know, but the captain ordered him to begin crating the scientific specimens that were to be shipped to President Jefferson via the keelboat.
Among the preserved skins, pressed plants and seeds were live exhibits—a prairie chicken, a burrowing squirrel and four chattering magpies. During the transfer of the magpies to a larger crate, one escaped. As it fluttered noisily about the hut, Lewis looked up from the parchments he’d been sorting and shot Pierre a perturbed look.
He did his best to quickly fetch the bird, yet his thoughts were hardly focused on the hunt. He couldn’t help but liken the darting magpie to Claire. The creature beat her wings and her beak against every wall in the room, fluttering about, refusing assistance, determined to find her own path to freedom.
Coming near enough to stir one’s senses, then darting quickly away when threatened. He wondered then if that was not part of the problem. Did Claire feel threatened by his proposal? It was possible, especially given the anger he had displayed at her refusal of it. Did she think if she became his wife he would take away her freedom, her ability to make decisions for herself?
The magpie lighted on the captain’s cot. Pierre stealthily reached for the man’s tricorn and tossed it over the creature.
“Adroitly done,” Lewis said, and then he went back to shuffling his reports.
Pierre carefully retrieved the frightened bird. He could feel her heart thumping wildly beneath her smooth black, white and iridescent feathers. For a moment he was tempted to open the door and toss her into the air. Wasn’t freedom in her best interest? Reluctantly he placed the magpie with the others. The bird offered no chatter now. Neither did the rest of them. They only hopelessly beat their wings against the crate that held them.
Frontier Agreement Page 20
