Chapter Eleven

The arrival of the caravan on July 6th sparked a whirlwind of activity.

On being informed that the caravan was near, the Nez Percés prepared to welcome the missionaries they had heard so much about. Both warriors and women adorned themselves in their finery, with the braves tying their normally wild manes of hair and adding eagle feathers to enhance their appearance while the women braided their hip-length black hair and tied the braids with brightly colored ribbons.

The warriors applied paint to themselves and their war horses, and upon hearing that the horse carts and wagons were in sight they rushed to their animals and cut out to receive the newcomers.

In a ragged line the mass of howling braves descended on the wagon train, many firing guns while others pounded on war drums. The fur company men smiled and waved, knowing the reception for what it was, but the startled missionaries at the rear of the column were convinced they were under attack by bloodthirsty hostiles. They started to gather in their stock and the women hustled into their wagons. Panic-stricken, they watched in horror as the Nez Percés swooped around them, and only then did one of the top men in the American Fur Company, Captain Wyeth, ride back to inform them there was no cause for alarm.

The trappers enjoyed a hearty laugh at the expense of the bewildered missionaries, and then the leaders of the Nez Percé were introduced. Otter Belt and others insisted that the men of the Great Spirit stay near their village, to which Dr. Marcus Whitman agreed.

Whitman, along with his pretty wife Narcissa, and the Reverend Henry Spaulding and his wife, as well as William Gray, composed the missionary party. They were enthusiastically devoted to converting the Indians to Christianity, and while quite ignorant of Indian customs and beliefs they were all keenly eager to learn.

After Whitman had set up his camp the Nez Percé lined up their entire village for a formal reception. Every man, woman, and child filed past, the warriors shaking hands as they had been instructed was the white custom and the Nez Percé women kissing Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spaulding on the cheek.

On the heels of the Nez Percé came some of the Shoshonis and Flatheads. Narcissa welcomed them all in sincere friendship, and at long last the majority of the Indians drifted away and she was temporarily left to her own devices. It was then, as she went to enter her tent, that she spied two women standing off to one side as if shy about approaching her. She wasn’t knowledgeable enough about the various tribes to be able to determine to which tribe they belonged, although she suspected they hailed from different ones. Smiling, she beckoned for them to come near and said softly, “I won’t hurt you, my dears. Please don’t be afraid.”

Narcissa didn’t expect either to understand her words but she did feel they would respond in their hearts to her tone. So she was all the more surprised when the younger of the pair, a truly beautiful woman with the most gorgeous eyes Narcissa had ever beheld, answered in perfect English.

Thank you, Mrs. Whitman. We did not know if we should impose on you or not.”

Wherever did you learn to speak my language so fluently?” Narcissa inquired.

From my husband, Nathaniel King,” the young woman replied. “I am Winona, a Shoshone.” She nodded at her companion, a stunning older woman who carried herself with grace and dignity. “This is Blue Water Woman, a Flathead, and the wife of Shakespeare McNair.”

I have heard of Shakespeare,” Narcissa said, recalling a conversation she’d had with Captain Wyeth concerning some of the more colorful characters inhabiting the Rockies. “They say he is a man to ride the river with,” she added, delighted that she remembered that particular figure of speech as told to her by the same gentleman.

We wanted to welcome you to the Rendezvous,” Blue Water Woman said, and made no attempt to hide the intent scrutiny she gave the missionary. “You are very beautiful.”

Narcissa blushed. “I thank you, my dear, for the compliment, but I’m afraid back in the States a man wouldn’t give me a second look.”

White men cannot be so foolish,” Blue Water Woman said with a grin.

Narcissa noticed Winona was studying her too, but there was something in the younger woman’s eyes, a hint of apprehension perhaps, for which Narcissa could not account. “Is anything wrong?” she bluntly asked.

Winona stared into the white woman’s dazzling blue eyes and could barely find her voice. How could she tell about her fears? How could she reveal the terror lodged in her heart? She had became terrified by the very thought of Nate journeying to St. Louis to see Adeline Van Buren, and now she saw that her fears were justified. If Adeline was only half as beautiful as Narcissa Whitman, what chance did she have to retain Nate’s affection?

Is anything wrong?” Narcissa repeated, and placed a gentle hand on Winona’s shoulder. “Forgive my manners, but you seem deeply troubled.”

You are very wise,” Winona said. “I understand why you are close to the Great Mystery.”

The …?” Narcissa began, and then caught on. “Oh. Yes. Actually, it is my husband who is the ordained minister. I simply help him in my own humble way.”

Winona felt a wave of despair wash over her and she had to avert her eyes to hide her emotional strife. Deep down she had always wondered if Nate still cared for Adeline Van Buren, and now she was certain he must. If all white women were as kind and attractive as Narcissa Whitman, how could he not love her?

Blue Water Woman knew of her friend’s feelings. Once, many years ago, she had entertained similar thoughts about Shakespeare. Now she came to Winona’s aid by changing the subject. “We are leaving for St. Louis when the caravan returns. Will all white women treat us as graciously as you do?”

Taken by surprise by the query, Narcissa was about to answer in the affirmative when her instinctive honesty prevailed. “There will be some, I am sorry to say, who will look down at you. They will regard you as their inferiors. But don’t let them spoil your stay. There are just as many white women who will be delighted to share your company.”

Winona had regained her composure and faced the missionary squarely. “Tell me, Mrs. Whitman. Could your husband ever love an Indian woman?”

Narcissa blinked, even more surprised. “My husband loves me and I know he would never stray,” she replied. She detected a fleeting flicker of fear on the Shoshone’s lovely features and suddenly sensed there was much more to the question than casual curiosity. “I would imagine,” she added slowly, choosing each word with care, “that my husband Marcus is very much like your Nathaniel. When a man takes a woman in marriage it usually means the man loves her to the depths of his soul and that he will do anything to make her life happier and easier.” She paused. “A man has certain needs, just like a woman does, and one of those is to have a woman to cherish and protect. Oh, I know there are those who say women belittle themselves by looking to men for protection, but so long as there is evil and wickedness in the world and there are those who delight in hurting others, there will be a need for men to protect their families.”

Having listened attentively, Winona nodded. “I know the truth of your words,” she said softly.

From Winona’s expression, Narcissa gathered that her words had done little to comfort the troubled young woman. She tried to fathom the underlying cause and ventured a personal question. “Has your husband given you reason to doubt his affection?”

No,” Winona said quickly. “Not at all.”

Has he been seeing another woman?”

No,” Winona responded, and bit her lower lip. She abruptly turned. “Thank you for talking with us, Mrs. Whitman. We are very grateful.” With that she hurried off, Blue Water Woman at her side. Once she looked back to see Narcissa Whitman staring quizzically after her, so she smiled and waved. Then she walked toward their camp.

You could have told her the truth.”

Winona glanced at her friend. “She is a nice woman but I do not know her well enough to confide in her.”

So you will torture yourself all the way to St. Louis?”

I have no choice. I must see for myself.”

Nate is not like most of the other trappers. He will never leave you, not even for a white woman.”

But so many trappers have done just that.”

Yes, but they usually leave their Indian wives after a winter or two. Few stay on as long as Nate has stayed with you,” Blue Water Woman noted. She sighed and gestured at the fur company store where brisk trading was being conducted. “Were it any other white man but Nate, I might be worried for you. But Nate is different. He likes living in the mountains, and he has adopted many of our ways. In some respects he is more like an Indian than a white man.” She nodded at peaks to the west. “Here is his home.”

Winona reflected for a dozen yards before replying. “I have thought of all that. I have tried …” she began, and left her sentence unfinished at the sight of Niles Thompson hurrying in their direction. Something about his posture told her he was extremely upset.

Hello, Niles,” Blue Water Woman greeted him.

The trapper nodded gravely. “Pleased to see you ladies again.”

Is something wrong?” Winona inquired.

Thompson shifted to verify no one had followed him or was paying any special attention to them. Moving closer, he spoke in a low tone. “Where’s Nate?”

At our camp so far as I know,” Winona answered. “Why?”

Warn him to keep a lookout for Campbell. That coon has been bragging around camp that he’s going to stomp Nate into the dirt.”

My husband knows all this,” Winona said. “He is being very careful.”

Does he know that Campbell intends to jump him when he least expects it? Does he know that Campbell has been hanging around with the Ruxton brothers?”

No,” Winona replied, alarmed. The Ruxton brothers had a reputation for being two of the nastiest trappers in the Rocky Mountains. No one knew much about their past except that they had left the States in a hurry after killing a man. They had become the scourge of the mountains, slaying several mountaineers in drunken brawls, at which they were masters. Decent trappers avoided them. And no Indian woman would marry either one or sleep with them because both invariably were filthy, their clothes grimy. Rumor had it they bathed once every two or three years.

Why is Campbell spending time with those two?” Blue Water Woman asked.

I don’t know, but it worries me,” Niles admitted. “Nate can take Campbell any day of the week, but if the Ruxtons butt into the affair there’s no telling how it will turn out.”

I will inform my husband,” Winona promised.

There’s one thing more,” Niles said. “I was standing at the southeast corner of the company store filling my pipe when I heard men talking softly around the corner. It was Campbell and the Ruxtons and they didn’t know I was there.” He frowned. “I couldn’t catch all their words, but I heard enough to guess that Campbell is betting heavily on the side and the Ruxtons have bet every hide they own on the outcome of the match.”

What do you mean by betting on the side?” Winona asked.

Everyone at the Rendezvous knows Campbell has wagered a hundred prime pelts against a hundred of Nate’s. But he’s also bet other trappers. I’d say he’ll lose his whole catch if he doesn’t best Nate.”

Blue Water Woman gazed at a group of trappers who were butchering four slain elk. “With so much at stake, Campbell cannot afford to lose.”

Exactly. And with the Ruxtons involved, the wrestling match might well turn into a matter of life and death. Knowing the Ruxtons as I do, you can count on there being bloodshed. They might try to kill Nate.”

Wouldn’t Campbell have to—” Winona sought the English word she had rarely used but heard Nate explain once “—forfeit any claim to the pelts?”

Not if Campbell licks Nate fair and square first. I figure the Ruxtons will make their play then.”

Campbell will never beat my husband.”

What if they have some trick up their sleeve?” Niles said. “What if they provoke him somehow? Get any man mad enough and he becomes downright careless.”

How would they do such a thing?” Winona inquired, and insight speared through her like the razor tip of a lance. “I must get to our camp,” she said, taking a step. But that was as far as she got when a gruff voice hailed her, sending a chill shivering down her spine.

Well, if it ain’t the wife of the mighty Grizzly Killer! Look at this, boys. Our prayers have been answered.”

Robert Campbell swaggered toward them, his big hands swinging loosely. On either side was one of the wicked Ruxtons, tall, thin men who were as dark as the dirty clothes they wore.

Hello, Campbell,” Niles said, casually placing himself between the three men and the women. “What can we do for you?”

The voyageur’s features clouded. “You can do nothing, old man. I’m here to talk to Grizzly Killer’s wife.”

I don’t want you bothering these women,” Niles said sternly. “The men at the Rendezvous won’t stand for such behavior.”

Me? Bother these lovely ladies?” Campbell said in mock indignation, then leered at Winona. “Why, all I want is a little conversation.”