Chapter 17

Clint stopped by to check on Tom two days later. He’d already heard from Adam that Tom was nearly ready to be back on his feet and that he and Connie would visit with some of the Molala people the following day.

Mercy Browning welcomed him at the door and pointed him upstairs. “Faith and Connie are up there with him. Go on up. First door to the right.”

Clint thanked her and made his way up the small, steep stairs. He heard Connie speaking in a hushed tone and paused outside the open door of a bedroom.

“We’re praying the truth will come out, and we’re doing what we can to find that truth.”

“Yes,” Tom answered, “but there are folks fighting equally hard to keep the truth buried.”

“Well, we have to figure it out before it’s too late,” Faith said.

Clint frowned. What were they talking about?

“I, for one, didn’t come all this way to stop now.” Connie spoke with determination. “This is too important to me.”

The trio fell silent, and Clint knew he couldn’t hide his arrival much longer. He stepped into the room. “I hope I’m not intruding. Mrs. Browning sent me right up.”

Connie was on one side of the iron-framed bed, and Faith was on the other, changing the bandage on Tom’s wound. Both women looked surprised—even upset. Clint decided to keep talking and hoped they wouldn’t worry about what he might have overheard.

“Well, it certainly looks like you have the best of it, Tom.” Clint smiled.

“I have a great nurse and an excellent doctor,” Tom replied. “And I understand I have you to thank for saving Connie and me from something much worse.”

Clint shook his head. “Rogue soldiers are always trouble. That man was absent without leave, so he’s now facing a court martial. But enough about him. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. I plan to get back to work tomorrow. Mrs. Browning and these two said I could do that if I promised to stay in bed for two days, and I’ve honored that commitment, so they must honor their part.”

“We only wanted to make sure his brain didn’t swell,” Faith said, finishing her work.

Clint glanced at Connie. She seemed attentive but not overly so. Maybe the attention she’d given Tom after the attack was simply due to her fears and nothing else. He knew Tom was in love with her, but until the attack Clint hadn’t seen anything to suggest she returned the feelings. Maybe Clint had conjured romantic motivations where none actually existed.

He frowned at Connie. “Your cheek is bruised.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’ve been told that more than once. It’s not a problem. Just a little sore.”

“I wish I’d taken the opportunity to give that soldier a good beating.”

“That would hardly have made my cheek feel any better,” Connie said with a smile.

“Maybe not, but it would have made him think twice before assaulting someone I care about.” He saw the look Tom gave him and added, “Seeing you two on the ground like that, with Tom bleeding, well . . . it didn’t sit well.”

“I feel just fine, though,” Tom continued. “A little headache still, but I think I’d forget all about it if I was actually able to work.”

“Faith agreed to let you work on preparing our first report to be sent in,” Connie reminded.

“That’s true, but while the bed is comfortable for sleeping, it’s not very good for working.”

“I can well imagine,” Clint said. “Still, you have two of the prettiest ladies to attend you. I wouldn’t complain too much.”

Tom grinned. “Yes, but one is married to a well-muscled riverboat captain, and the other is married to her job. It does me little good in either case.”

Clint laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want it said that I encouraged breaking up marriages.”

Tom joined him in laughter.

“Oh, honestly,” Connie said, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous.”

That only made the men chuckle all the more.

“Well, I hope you’ll soon feel completely well, with no more headaches. In the meantime, I need to get back to my office.” Clint headed for the bedroom door, but neither Connie nor Faith offered to see him out.

As he made his way downstairs, Clint wondered what the trio was up to. Maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention to them. He frowned, remembering that Connie had been down at the river the night the Indians were bringing in smuggled goods. She’d said she was just out for a walk, but now Clint had his doubts. What had she really been up to?

He made his way back to his office and found a telegram waiting for him. It was from his father. Clint read through it and frowned. His father was coming for a visit. Apparently he was headed home to California to encourage votes, since it was an election year. Four years earlier, the election had been hotly contested. Electoral votes in several states were disputed, and a special Electoral Commission was formed to decide the outcome. Rutherford B. Hayes, the Republican, had been chosen as the winner, pledging, because of the controversy, that he would not run for a second term. He had stuck to that pledge, leaving both parties to come up with brand-new candidates. James A. Garfield was running for the Republicans, and Winfield Scott Hancock, a Civil War general, was the Democratic choice. It was clear who Clint’s Republican father wanted.

Clint crumpled the telegram. He didn’t need his father here right now. The senator had a way of disturbing even the most peaceful setting, and Grand Ronde was far from that. Clint took off his coat and hung it over the back of the chair. He was just going to have to make the best of it.

He had just sat down and gotten to work, still pondering what he could do that would be most beneficial to his own plans, when a knock sounded on the outer door. At one time, Clint had a secretary who handled visitors, but the government had cut back on staff.

“Come in!” he called.

To his surprise, Connie entered, with Faith close behind her. “Mama insisted we bring you this piece of chocolate cake. She meant to send it with you, but you got past her somehow.” She put the plate down in front of him.

“Is that her famous berry compote on the side?” he asked.

Connie chuckled. “It is.”

“I’ll be hard-pressed not to dig in.” He smiled up at Connie. “Thanks for bringing it by.”

“That’s quite all right,” she answered. “We’re on our way to Ann’s. Ruth is about to have a baby. She fell ill, though, and Faith has been trying to help. Of course, don’t say anything to Ruth’s husband. He and his father seem to hate all white people. They don’t want anything to do with our help.”

“Samson Sheridan and his father and brothers have been at odds with us since your father refused to help them run away to Canada.”

Connie nodded. “All the same, there’s no anger toward them on our part. My father misses his old friend and still tries from time to time to make amends.”

“I know he does. I’ve tried to repair the relationship as well.” Clint shook his head. “The Indians act like spoiled children.”

“Not all act that way,” Faith countered. “No more than white people do. I’d say this is more of a personal feud.”

“Nevertheless, there is a growing hatred among the Indians, and I fear it’s going to explode and destroy everyone and everything. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do. A lot of work.”

“We have our duties as well.” Connie headed for the front door. “Enjoy your cake, and don’t forget to bring back Mama’s dish.”

“I won’t.”

Clint looked at the cake and then at the work he had to manage. Supplies needed to be ordered.

He dipped his little finger in the compote and then licked it off. Supplies could wait. He picked up the plate and headed to the kitchen to find a fork.

“The baby isn’t moving much,” Ann told Faith. Ruth gave a weak nod.

Connie took Ruth’s hand. Ruth tried to squeeze Connie’s fingers, but it was a poor attempt. Whatever had been wrong was still hanging on, and she wasn’t very strong.

Faith felt Ruth’s abdomen. She pressed the baby first one way and then another. She frowned. “When did you last feel him move?”

Ruth shook her head. “I’m not sure. I’ve mostly been sleeping.”

“Which is good for you both.” Faith straightened. “You rest. I’m going to speak with your stepmother.” She motioned to Connie and Ann. Once in the main living area, Faith wasted no time. “Do you know when the baby was last moving?”

“Just before she got sick. I think that was Friday. I remember her laughing about how he was sure to break her ribs with his kicking.” Ann grabbed Faith’s arm. “Please. What is wrong with her?”

“I’m not sure. It could be one of a number of maladies. What concerns me is that I couldn’t get any reaction out of the baby. I’m going to go back and examine her further, but I’m worried.”

Ann looked at Connie with tears in her eyes. “My poor girl. She’s talked of nothing but this baby for months. Why would God take him from her now? Have we angered God?”

Connie put her arm around Ann and led her to the table. Together they sat. Connie finally worked up the nerve to speak. “Bad things sometimes happen, Ann, but this isn’t about God being angry. I’m certain of that. I’m sure Mama could explain it better than I can. She lost a couple of babies and nearly died when I was born.”

Ann shook her head. “Sam is looking forward to being a father. He’s already so angry, and I fear he won’t be able to bear this. I just don’t know what to do.”

“We can pray about it,” Connie said. “We can pray right now.” She took Ann’s hand. “Oh, Father, you know how hard this is. We want so much for Ruth and the baby to be all right. Please touch them both and give Faith wisdom as to what she can do to help. Father, this is such a difficult time for Ann. Give her strength and understanding to help Sam through this as well. We don’t always know why these things happen, Lord, but we know that you have promised to be with us always.”

Faith came out of the bedroom. “I can’t tell if the baby is still alive. I must get him delivered. I’m going back to the house to have Aunt Mercy mix us up a special tea that will bring on Ruth’s labor.”

Without warning, the front door burst open, and a very angry Sam came into the house. “Where is Ruth?”

“She’s ill, as I told you,” Ann said, getting to her feet. “She’s just in there.” She pointed to the bedroom. “She would be pleased to see you.”

Sam looked at Connie and Faith. “Why are you here?”

“We’re friends with Ann and your wife,” Faith replied. “Ann and I were very close when I lived among the Rogue River Tututni. Are you Ruth’s husband, Sam?” She smiled. “I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

He glared. “Get out of here. You have no right to be here.”

“They are my friends, Sam,” Ann protested. “They’re good people. They helped us make baby clothes.”

“We don’t need help from white women. There are plenty of good sewers among our people.”

“Of course there are,” Ann countered. “But my friends wanted to do this out of love.”

“The white man knows nothing of love except for himself.” He pointed to the door. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

“Sam—”

“If they don’t go, I’ll take Ruth somewhere else to deliver our child. You may be her mother, but I will not honor that if you allow these two to remain.”

“There’s no need to fight.” Connie took Faith’s arm and prayed Sam wouldn’t notice her medical bag. “We’re going. But, Sam, there’s something I want you to know. I care for your wife and Ann. I want to do good things for them and help them in any way I can. You too. I’d like for us to be friends. I remember when our fathers were best friends. Like brothers. I’d like to see that happen again. I want our families to be one.”

“No. That will never happen. Your father betrayed my father, and because of that, my mother died. We will never be one. Now, go!”

The rage in his expression was evident, and for the first time Connie feared he might kill them. “Good night, Ann.” She kissed the older woman’s cheek and whispered, “We’ll find a way to come back.”

Faith hugged Ann and appeared to say something as well.

Connie moved to the door. “We’ll be praying for all of you.”

They had barely stepped out of the house when they heard Sam yell at Ann.

“This won’t bode well for Ruth,” Faith said. “She’s not doing well. I think there’s something wrong with the baby or else there’s something wrong with Ruth that’s causing problems for the baby. I fear that if she doesn’t have the baby soon, they might both die.”

“Is she strong enough to deliver?” Connie feared she already knew the answer.

“I can’t be sure. She might require surgery.”

Connie shook her head. “Sam would never allow that.”

Faith shrugged. “He doesn’t have to know. Maybe Clint or your father could keep him occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe, but he hates them as much as anyone. I would almost be afraid to ask them to do that. Sam might well kill us all.”

“But if we don’t risk it, Ruth will die and the baby with her.” Faith paused. “There’s something else. Ruth said more about the house with rifles. She said it’s just north of where the big bend in the river starts. It’s hidden in the woods, and they always have guards.”