During and after the attack, prayer had been her refuge. Prayer was vital to all the women there. God was their hope—He was all they had. Now Mercy found the world around her at war and the killing continuing. This time it was at the hands of her own people.
“You awake?”
Mercy’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Adam’s question. She looked up and found him standing in front of her.
“I am. I was just reflecting and praying.” She smiled, determined to break down some of the barriers between them. “Would you like to join me?”
He looked surprised for a moment, then nodded and sat beside her. He sat as far from her as possible—whether for his own comfort or hers, Mercy didn’t know.
“What were you reflecting on?” he asked, his voice still reserved.
“My life. I was just thankful that I’ve always known who God is—that I’ve never had to question if He’s real or not. Mama and Da saw to that, even though I lost both of them at a young age.”
Adam nodded. “My mother and father also raised us with a fear of the Lord.”
“I can’t imagine how folks deal with the despairs of life without Him. The times in my life when I was hurting most, God always seemed present.”
“People without Him usually try to deal with life in their own strength, and it never works for long,” Adam replied.
“We always had the Bible to go to if we needed answers.” She looked at the village houses across the field. “How do you share the gospel with a people who don’t know anything about the Bible? It’s nothing more than a book of English words to them. How do you instill respect and faith in it?”
Her question appeared to ease Adam’s discomfort. He stretched out his legs and followed her gaze to the Indian houses. “You can’t just rush in and wave the Bible and tell them they must believe. I’ve seen preachers who tried that, and it never works. Isaac has always maintained that you have to be a living example. That you live your faith in front of them and invite them to share your life and ask them to share theirs. You don’t impose upon them and demand they do things only your way, but rather work with them to show that you are open to learning about them and what they believe.
“Little by little, trust is formed, and of course they see us reading the Scriptures and want to know what we’re doing. We always start the children reading with Bible verses, and that allows us to explain them. And then we teach them to memorize Scripture and use it to practice writing. As time goes by, they see and hear for themselves what our faith means to us, and they gradually form a respect, whether they believe it for themselves or not. At least most do.”
“That makes sense. I was never sure how Dr. Whitman went about his work with the Cayuse. I think his heart was good. He certainly loved God and did his best to be a righteous man. But he imposed on the Cayuse and Nez Perce. He demanded change from them.”
“In what way?” Adam asked.
“He told them they had to settle in one place and farm instead of being nomadic and following the food. He told them they needed to learn English and to put aside their customs and superstitions.” Mercy shrugged. “I suppose I understand what he was trying to accomplish, but even then it seemed the wrong way to treat such a proud people.”
“Isaac said he was here nearly a year before the people started to accept his presence and work with him. This wasn’t a village then. Isaac and Eletta came here and built their cabin, and every day they ventured out to try to meet the native peoples. Some had already had bad encounters with the whites and distrusted them. Others were more open and invited Isaac and Eletta to sit at their fires and share food. They were fascinated by Faith. Many had never seen a white baby.” He shifted his weight, and the log rocked. He reached out to steady Mercy. “Sorry about that.” He quickly dropped his hold and looked away.
“Isaac started inviting them to his house so that he and Eletta could reciprocate, but the Tututni were very skeptical. It took nearly another year before they would come. By then, Isaac was trying to add on to the cabin, and some of the Indians even lent a hand. When the time came to build the church, he had made good friends and received all the help he needed. It was while they were building that the families came and set up camp here. It was summer, so they mostly lived outside. Isaac said it was the most amazing thing. They allowed Isaac to preach and Eletta to teach their children. All the while, they worked on the church, and more Tututni arrived to join in. By the time it turned cold, Isaac and Eletta had integrated themselves into the lives of these people, and they in turn decided to remain here. They dug houses, and Isaac helped. He told me the leaders were surprised that a white man would lend a hand to help Indians.”
“I wonder how different things might have been if it were that way with the Whitmans. On the other hand, the Cayuse were a different people. They were known for being aggressive, warring people.”
“What was life like there?” Adam asked.
“Nothing like this. We came to the mission from the wagon train just as a measles epidemic started. There were wide-open fields that had been planted and harvested, as well as hills and valleys. It was pretty and unseasonably warm.”
“Why did you and your sisters travel west?”
“That’s a long story.” Mercy smiled. “Our uncle invited us to come live with him in Oregon City after our parents died. We sold everything and prepared for the trip, but none of the trail masters wanted to take on women traveling alone. My sister devised a plan with a man who wanted to come west as a missionary. The mission board wouldn’t allow him to go without a wife. So they married.”
“Just like that?” Adam sounded surprised.
“Yes. We told Grace it was ridiculous to marry someone she didn’t love, but she honestly couldn’t see another way, and our time was running out. The house had been sold, and we had no place else to go. So we joined the wagon train west and arrived at the mission. The Whitmans invited us to stay through the winter, as they often did with travelers, and since we weren’t sure our uncle was even in Oregon City anymore, we accepted their offer.”
“What was the mission like?”
“There was a large T-shaped mission house where several families lived with the Whitmans. In the longer part of the T, there was a school, which also doubled as our church. There was an entirely different house called the Emigrant House positioned on the other side of the acreage. Half a dozen families lived in it, and that was where my sisters and I stayed. It wasn’t much, to be sure, but better than being out in the elements.” She smiled and continued.
“Everyone had jobs to do. I fell ill with measles, however, and was of little use to anyone. So many were sick, and my sister Grace did her best to help. She even went to the Cayuse village despite Dr. Whitman saying that none of us should ever go there. Alex, her husband now, told her how great the need was, and they went to the village with Sam Two Moons, his Nez Perce friend, when Dr. Whitman wasn’t around. Grace said the conditions were horrible.”
Mercy found herself going back in time. Instead of the Tututni village before her, it became the Whitman Mission grounds with Cayuse teepees in the background.
“The Cayuse didn’t live like the Tututni. They had lodges like the prairie Indian teepees. But instead of hides, the lodges were covered with mats of tule grass. I never saw the inside of one, so I can’t tell you much about them. The people dressed in buckskin and whatever else they could trade for. The women seemed to love trading things for our dresses and skirts, and the men often wanted shirts.” She looked at Adam and shrugged. “I suppose they thought them more comfortable.”
“Maybe it was a prestige thing,” Adam suggested. “Having possessions that once belonged to whites might have been a way of suggesting they’d conquered the whites.”
Mercy shrugged. “Could be. Anyway, the measles spread fast, and things didn’t improve for the Cayuse. Many of their children died—adults too. They became convinced that Dr. Whitman was poisoning them. One of the half-breeds was a trou
blemaker, and he told the Cayuse chiefs that this was true. The day before the attack, my sister Grace went north to find your brother’s place. Eletta was quite sick, and Isaac was worried about her. Hope and I stayed behind because I had just gotten over the measles and Hope was in love.”
The cries and screams of those who were killed during the massacre filled her head. “I was in school when the attack started. Our teacher, Mr. Saunders, had gone for water or something. I don’t recall. He was attacked on his way back while two of the chiefs were in the mission house killing Dr. Whitman. Everything went crazy after that. We children tried to hide in the loft, but it didn’t work. The Cayuse found us and forced us to come down. They made us line up. I was sure they were going to kill us right there and then. One of the children was the daughter of another minister. She had learned the language, so she tried to talk to the Indians, but they didn’t listen. They forced us outside and made us watch as they continued to kill the men. It was terrifying. We were held hostage for a month after that. Death was a constant threat, and we were treated abominably.”
She shuddered and looked at Adam. “When you came back and told us what had happened at the other village, it was like I could see it in my mind. I’ve seen death like that up close, and it never leaves your memory.”
Adam’s expression was grave. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It would be hard enough as an adult, but as a child, it must have seemed like the end of the world.”
“Being a child was to my benefit in the long run. The older girls and women were forced to . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sure you understand.” She briefly allowed her gaze to meet Adam’s. When he nodded, Mercy looked away and continued.
“It was the end of my world as I knew it. I’d never experienced such fear until then. The Indians we’d encountered on the trail had been helpful, and although they were pestering at times, wanting to trade or expecting us to give them things, they weren’t at all threatening.” She shook her head. “My sisters didn’t want me to come here because of the fighting. They’re afraid I’ll find myself right back in the same situation.”
“I understand that. I don’t know that I would want one of my sisters here. I can’t lie to you and say I think this is a safe place anymore. The fact is, I’ve been trying to talk Isaac into sending you and Eletta and Faith away.”
Mercy knew the circumstances were more dangerous than before, but she’d assumed that since the whites were doing most of the killing, they would still be safe.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
Adam looked almost apologetic. He turned his face away and nodded. “There have been signs of people nosing around the village. Boot prints, not moccasins. The Tututni are taking turns watching through the night.”
Mercy felt a tingle run down her back. Without thinking, she scooted a little closer to Adam. “But the militia knows that this is a mission with white men and women. Surely that makes a difference.”
“I don’t know. From what I’m hearing, the tolerance and patience of the government is waning. Word came that the Indians all along the Rogue River were joining together to kill the whites. Some of the natives at the Table Rock Reservation left without permission and are considered to be on the warpath. And some of the people here were related to the people killed upriver. It’s questionable how long the peace will hold.”
Visions of the death and destruction she’d witnessed at the Whitman Mission flooded her thoughts. Mercy looked out across the village and imagined it happening here. She could see Red Deer and her children running for their lives only to be shot down. She could imagine Faith running into the middle of things to save her friends.
Something moved in the brush behind them, and Mercy let out a cry and threw herself against Adam. When a deer darted out and raced across the forest edge and finally back into the woods, Mercy let out the breath she’d been holding. She could feel Adam’s arms around her—holding her safe.
She slowly lifted her face. His dark eyes bore into her—his expression one of desire but also conflict.
For a moment, neither moved, but then Adam lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter
10
The kiss sent a lightning streak through Adam, and he jumped up as if he’d been burned. He stared down at Mercy, who was trying to right herself on the log. He felt bad for nearly knocking her off of it again, but his actions couldn’t be helped.
“I’m sorry. That should never have happened, and it won’t happen again. I never intended to do that.” He knew he was rambling. “I think we should get back to the house. It’s not safe to be out this far anymore.” He turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mercy was following. She wasn’t.
He stopped and pulled her to her feet. “Did you hear me? We need to get back. That deer wouldn’t just bound out of the woods without a reason. Something must have spooked it, so we should go.”
“I heard you.” Mercy frowned and pulled away from him.
He readied himself for some protest or downright defiance, but instead Mercy gathered her skirts and marched back to the cabin. He followed, and when she stopped to pick up the laundry basket, he reached out to take it from her. Again he expected her to reject his offer, but she let him have the basket.
“Mercy, wait.” He hurried to catch up with her. “I’m truly sorry. I know what I did was wrong. I never meant it to happen.”
“So you keep telling me,” she said angrily. Without another word, she headed through the open front door of the house.
Isaac stood just inside. “I was coming to look for you. Faith said you were gathering clothes, and I found the laundry but no sign of you.”
Mercy looked back at Adam. She grabbed the basket from him and pushed past Isaac. “I went for a walk and met with a skunk.”
“A skunk?”
Adam looked at Isaac. “I’ll explain later.” His voice was barely a whisper.
He watched as Mercy all but threw the basket down near the fireplace. She didn’t say anything, but he could almost hear her muttering. Perhaps it was just the onslaught of regrets echoing in his own mind.
Isaac shook his head. “One of the men spotted Billy and some of his militia downstream. Their camp isn’t but five miles away. I figure I should go down there and try to talk some sense into them.”
Adam frowned. “Do you think that’s wise, since I’m leaving tomorrow?”
“I’d forgotten you were going.” Isaac considered this for a moment. “I think you still need to go. It’s only right that we try to warn the other tribes and help them figure out how to negotiate with the government. I want the killings to stop, and if we don’t both do what we can, I’m afraid it will just continue.”
Mercy had stretched a clothesline from one wall to the other in order to hang the damp laundry in front of the fire. Adam could see she was calming down as her mind focused on the work at hand. He hated that he’d upset her so much.
“It’s most likely going to continue anyway.” Adam turned back to Isaac, who was watching him in a curious fashion. “I’ll leave at first light.” He said it loudly enough that he hoped Mercy heard him.
Isaac stood without a word of reply for several moments. Adam wondered if his brother was trying to figure out the conflict with the Indians, or the obvious issue between Adam and Mercy. With a shake of his head, Isaac grabbed his hat. “I’ll go after I speak with the men. I’m also going to see Tunchi about getting Eletta to Ellensburg.”
Tunchi, whose name translated to the number four, was Red Deer’s brother-in-law. He was not only the fourth son born to his family, but was born in a village where four roads converged. His full name translated to “Four Roads Come Together,” but everyone called him Tunchi. Adam knew Isaac had chosen him because he had a large, long canoe that could manage the ocean if need be.
Adam lowered his voice. “Do you think you can get her to go?”
“She’s not well, and it would give me p
eace of mind to have her near a doctor or hospital. I’d also like to have our girls where there are soldiers to protect them. From just talking with the other men, I believe the peace is sure to pass from us soon enough.”
“Maybe I should stay here then.”
Isaac shook his head. “No, you must get to the other tribes—the ones away from the river in the higher elevations. They may not realize how quickly things are deteriorating. We need to encourage them to come down peacefully and give themselves up for transportation to the reservation. As much as I hate it, I think it’s now the only way. Perhaps if they show cooperation, the government will organize a reserve down here and allow them to return.”
Three days later, Mercy still felt mixed emotions when thinking about Adam. She couldn’t deny that what she felt for him was stronger than it had been just days before. That kiss had changed everything. The kiss and the way he’d held her in his arms when she’d been frightened.
Perhaps it was foolish to put so much stock in that moment, but she couldn’t help it. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before, yet Adam treated the entire matter as distasteful and something to be forgotten.
“But I can’t forget.” Mercy touched her lips. It was the first time she’d ever kissed a man. Many a fellow had tried, but Mercy had managed to avoid their attempts. With Adam, she had welcomed it.
Faith murmured softly, rolling over in her sleep. Sometime in the night she had grown cold and had climbed in bed with Mercy. It was becoming a habit.
It was nearly dawn, and Mercy figured it was better to get up and get to work than to lie sleepless in bed, wondering about her heart.
She inched her body down the mattress and managed to separate herself from Faith. The child rolled over and curled into a ball. Once out of bed, Mercy hurried to dress in her warm wool skirt and stockings. She topped this with a flannel camisole and long-sleeved cotton blouse before exiting the bedroom. There was no sign of anyone else being awake, so she went about her business as quietly as possible.
Cherished Mercy Page 10
