Woman of Courage (35 page)

Buck would soon be going back to his home in the Rocky Mountains, and she would probably never see him again. Would he miss her as much as she would him? Would he regret not having sought out the one true God? Perhaps it was best that she would never know the answer to her burning questions. It would only bring more pain to her already broken heart to know that he ached for her as much as she did for him, yet would not give himself to the Lord.

Amanda’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Buck’s deep voice. “We’ll get some supplies here and rest a few days,” he announced.

She smiled in response, knowing they wouldn’t be leaving right away. His concern for their welfare was evident, not only by the tone of his voice, but from the sincere expression on his handsome face.

Someone inside the fort must have seen them coming, for the large wooden gates opened, bidding them entrance to this wilderness post, where spirals of smoke drifted up from chimneys, and horses whinnied a greeting from the large split-rail corral.

As they entered the compound, Amanda spotted a tall man dressed in buckskins and wearing a long coat and hat made from an animal skin. He had long brown hair and a scruffy beard, peppered with gray. He reminded Amanda a bit of Jim, and she wondered if Mary had noticed it, too.

Buck dismounted from his horse and came around to help Amanda and the baby down, as well as Mary and Little Joe. Amanda had no sooner stepped to the ground when the burly looking man stepped up to Buck and said, “You can put your horses over there with the others.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Buck said, looking back at the women. “Amanda and Mary, you should take the babies and go inside the main building where it’s bound to be warmer.”

“You can follow me in,” the man said to the women. “I’ve got some some grub warmin’ over the fire.”

As Amanda and Mary, carrying their children in their cradleboards, followed the big man toward the main post, Buck tended the horses. Amanda looked forward to spending a few days at the fort to rest up and replenish their supplies. Her happiness was heightened by knowing she’d be around Buck a little longer.

A blast of warm air greeted Amanda as she and Mary entered the log structure used as the main post. Bundles and stacks of supplies littered the floor along one side of the building. A huge stone fireplace graced one wall, and a roaring fire emitted enough warmth to heat the entire room. A black kettle hung in the center, with a stewlike mixture bubbling inside. Three split-log chairs sat in front of the fireplace, and a bearskin rug lay on the floor a few feet from the hearth.

It was a cozy, welcoming sight, and Amanda was more than willing to take a seat in front of the fire. First, however, she removed the cradleboard from her back, and gently lifted Little Fawn from her sheltered cocoon. Dropping to her knees onto the bearskin rug, Amanda placed her baby girl on the rug, thinking she’d been confined in her cradleboard all morning and needed the freedom to kick her legs and move her hands. Mary did the same with Little Joe.

The big man, who’d followed them inside, let his coat fall from his shoulders onto the back of a chair and moved toward Amanda. “The name’s Bret Walker, and I’m temporarily runnin’ this here tradin’ post, while the postmaster, Pierre Pambrun, is off gettin’ more supplies at Fort Vancouver.”

Amanda got up and extended one hand toward Bret. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Walker. My name is Amanda Pearson, and this is Mary Breck.”

Somewhat awkwardly, he shook her small hand. “So where ya headed?”

“We are going to the Spalding Mission,” she replied.

“What for?” Bret asked, getting out some bowls for the stew.

“To help Reverend and Mrs. Spalding educate the Nez Percé Indians.”

He looked away from Amanda and eyeballed Mary. “She goin’ there, too?”

Amanda nodded.

“Oregon Territory ain’t fittin’ for a fragile female,” he mumbled, handing Mary and Amanda each a bowl of stew. “Take a seat and warm your insides.”

“We thank you for the food, Mr. Walker, and I am not as fragile as I might look,” Amanda said through tight lips. “I have been through more in the last nine months than most women see in a lifetime.” Seeing this as an opportunity to witness, she added, “My strength comes from the Lord. He brought us safely across many miles of wilderness.”

Bret raised his eyebrows. “Really now? I thought it was that half-breed guide of yours who got ya here safely.”

“Buck did lead us, but I believe God guided him.” Before Bret could respond, Amanda asked, “Where is everyone? Surely you aren’t here at the fort alone.”

Bret chuckled. “It is kinda strange to see this big room empty of men in the middle of the day. Usually there’s three or four who just like to mill around, soakin’ up the heat and chewin’ the fat.”

“Where are men today?” Mary spoke up.

“Some are out huntin’ and checkin’ their traps,” he answered, reaching into his pocket for a wad of chewing tobacco. “Others are holed up in the cabins here, waitin’ out the storm that’s no doubt comin’.”

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Amanda asked, watching him chew the tobacco.

“Later.” Brett chuckled. “Truth is, I’ve been tastin’ that stew while it heated up.”

Amanda wondered how anyone could chew that awful tobacco. Just the thought of putting something like that in her mouth made her nauseous, but she was so hungry, she tried not to think about it.

“So, how long are ya plannin’ to stay?” Bret asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Buck, our guide, said we would rest here a few days, and then …”

Bret rose from his chair and moved toward the window. “Well, I think your man may have changed his mind, ’cause the gates just swung open, and he’s ridin’ for all he’s worth.”

A
manda’s heart gave a lurch. If Buck had ridden out, did that mean he was leaving them here and going back to his home in the Rocky Mountains? Had he decided not to take her and Mary to the Spalding Mission after all?

She’d thought about saying so much to Buck before they parted. Now she would never get the chance.
Maybe this is the best way
, Amanda thought. For she really didn’t think she’d be able to say the things she’d gone over in her head so many times when it came time to say good-bye. Amanda knew the parting would not be easy. In her mind, the situation played out much differently, however. But she kept pushing those hopes and dreams as far from her thoughts as possible.

She turned to Mary and clasped her arm. “Buck is gone, Mary. He’s left us to find our way to the mission by ourselves.”

Mary shook her head. “Buck, he not do something like that. He say he take us to mission, he will do it.”

“But you heard what the man said, Mary. Buck just rode out, and he never even told us he was going or said good-bye.”

“He be back. Just wait and see.” Mary gave Amanda’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Come, now. I will feed our babies. Then we rest.”

After Mary fed Little Joe and put him down to sleep in the small cabin they’d been given, she decided to take a walk around the compound while Amanda and the babies rested. Mary was tired, but she felt restless and needed some fresh air. She’d just stepped outside when an Indian brave, sitting straight and tall on the back of a beautiful spotted pony, rode in. His long, shiny black hair hung loosely against his broad, well-muscled shoulders, and as he drew closer, his dark eyes met Mary’s with a look of surprise. “Yellow Bird? Is—it really you?” he asked in their native tongue, dismounting from his horse.

Mary’s heart pounded as she steadied herself against one of the supply wagons and stared at the young man’s face. It wasn’t possible, but as he walked toward her, she knew for certain that it was Gray Eagle. But how could that be? Gray Eagle was dead; she’d seen the Blackfoot Indian kill him. Perhaps this was someone who looked like Gray Eagle. But he had called her by name. Mary’s mind whirled with this unexpected turn of events, and she trembled so badly, she feared she might faint.

His dark eyes met hers, and their gazes locked. “Don’t you recognize me, Yellow Bird? It’s me, Gray Eagle. I feared I would never see you again.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Oh Gray Eagle, is it really you? I thought you were dead.”

“I was left for dead, but the wound I sustained from that Blackfoot warrior did not kill me,” he replied. “My determination to live would not let me die.”

Tears welled in Mary’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “If I’d only known … I grieved for so many moons.”

“As did I,” he said, moving closer. “After my wound healed I searched for you, but to no avail. Where have you been?”

Mary swallowed hard, unsure of where to begin. Would Gray Eagle understand about her life with Jim? What would he say when she told him about Little Joe?

“Are you all right?” Gray Eagle asked, his face a mask of concern. “Your eyes are full of fear, like the day I tried to rescue you but failed.”

Trying to calm herself, Mary drew in another deep breath. “Why are you here at the fort?” she asked, thinking a change of subject might help. Seeing Gray Eagle like this was almost too much to comprehend.

“I and a few others from our tribe came to trade for supplies. How is that you are here, Yellow Bird?”

“Before I explain that, there is something you must know,” she said, shakily.

“What is it?”

“Smoking Buffalo, the Blackfoot Indian who captured me, took me to one of the trading posts and gave me to a white man in exchange for some things he wanted.”

“You have been living with a white man all this time?” he questioned.

She nodded. “His name was Jim Breck, and he was my husband. He changed my name from Yellow Bird to Mary.”

Gray Eagle’s brows lifted, and he sucked in his breath. “You are married?”

“I was.” Mary dropped her gaze. “Jim is dead. He died from rattlesnake bites.”

“Did you love him, Yellow Bird?” Gray Eagle’s question came quickly.

“Not at first, but I grew to love him,” she answered honestly.

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry.”

“What of my family?” Mary asked. “Are they alive and doing well?”

He nodded. “Your parents and brother are living near the Spalding Mission for the winter months.”

Mary clasped her hands over her mouth. “I am so glad. That’s where Amanda and I are heading, and I look forward to seeing my family there.”

Gray Eagle quirked an eyebrow. “Amanda?”

“She is a white woman and plans to teach our people about God.”

Gray Eagle smiled. “Reverend Henry Spalding has been teaching our people about God. He reads to us from the Bible, but many of the People call it ‘the Book of Heaven.’ ”

Just then, Mary caught sight of Amanda standing in the doorway, motioning for her to come. Mary wanted to stay and talk more with Gray Eagle. All the years she’d mourned for this man, and now he was here. It was all Mary could do not to throw herself into his arms, but more needed to be said. There were so many things she wanted to tell him.

“I need to go,” Mary said. “Will you be here awhile? Can we talk later?”

Gray Eagle nodded. “Yes, we have much catching up to do.”

Amanda had just gotten Little Joe settled and laid back down when Mary stepped into the cabin they shared. The look on her friend’s face sent a shiver of apprehension up Amanda’s spine. “Is something wrong, Mary? You look upset. Little Joe was a bit fussy, but he’s okay now.”

Mary took a seat beside Amanda. “You have talked of miracles, right?”

Amanda nodded.

“A miracle has happened.”

“Is it Buck? Has he returned?”

Mary shook her head. “It is Gray Eagle. He is not dead.”

Amanda sat trying to process what Mary had just said. She remembered Mary telling her about the Nez Percé man she had planned to marry before she was captured by the Blackfeet. “I thought you had said Gray Eagle had been killed at the hands of a Blackfoot Indian.”

“Yes. He not dead, though. Got badly wounded, but he survived. He here at the fort. We just talk.”

Amanda clasped Mary’s hand. “Oh, that is wonderful news! It is a miracle, and I am so happy for you!”

Mary’s forehead wrinkled. “Gray Eagle know about Jim, but …” Her voice trailed off as she glanced over at her son, sleeping peacefully on a mat beside Little Fawn. “I not tell him about Little Joe.”