Tildie looked up as the other women began to stand and prattle. She followed a pointing finger to a giant white man striding into the village beside an Indian.
A Swede, thought Tildie immediately as she observed him. No other race towers over others in that golden aura like the Swedish people back home in Indiana.
A large, reddish-gold dog followed the two travelers. The dog had a peculiar backpack, carrying part of the load for his master.
The white man smiled easily as he exchanged greetings with many of the tribe. Several children dashed out to pet the dog, exclaiming happily as they trotted beside the two men and the dog.
Tildie had never seen a man so stunning. His straight blond hair hung down over his collar. With a healthy tan, he was still fair beside the swarthy Indians. Straight nose, firm lips, and squarish chin, he was handsome. His expression radiated warmth. His light-colored eyes smiled on those around him. Dressed in buckskins and homespun cloth, with dark leather boots nearly to his knees, he looked magnificent.
Tildie started walking toward him, vaguely thinking that this was a white man, and a white man would surely speak English. He would help her and the children. She caught Evie up in her arms as she passed and reached out to take Mari’s hand to pull her along. By the time he reached the chief’s tepee, she’d broken into a run.
Something one of the Indians said drew his attention to her. He turned, watching her. She came to a halt, suddenly unsure. Her eyes searched his. Would this stranger help? Could he get them out of the Indian village? He smiled, and she recognized the smile.
Odd, but her brother had had just that kind of smile, thin lips that tilted into a crooked smile, full of charm and good humor. Tildie felt as if her own brother had come to rescue her. She ran again as fast as she could, encumbered by the little girls. The crowd of Indians to one side parted, allowing Boister to join her. He ran, too.
Tildie crossed the last few yards, hurling herself into the white man’s arms. Distrustful, Boister shed his wariness and grabbed one of the giant’s legs and Mari, the other. Tildie buried her face against his chest. She cried with relief.
It felt right to be in his strong arms. His tall frame provided a bulwark to cling to. Larger, sturdier, safer than any man she could recall, he must have stooped to embrace them. She felt his chin upon her head. She heard him laugh and wondered how it could all be so natural.
Finally embarrassed, she leaned back. He wiped tears from her face with gentle fingertips. The villagers crowded around them, rejoicing as they witnessed what appeared to them a happy reunion. The Indians’ smiling faces, their strange words of joy surrounded her. She looked up with bewilderment at the white man.
“I came as soon as I heard you were here,” he explained.
“I don’t understand.”
“These are my friends. I learned their language when I lived with them four winters ago. I wasn’t very fluent back then. When I tried to tell them that I didn’t want one of their Indian maidens, that my God had chosen a woman for me, they thought I already had a wife, not that I was waiting to find her. When you knelt to pray as they’d seen me do, they decided you were my woman. They haven’t seen many people kneel to pray.
“My name is Jan Borjesson. You have a boy named Boister?” At her nod, he continued. “They decided he’s my son because the names sound alike. That would make sense to them. Moving Waters came to my cabin with the wonderful news that my woman had arrived from the East.”
Tildie’s head went down. She couldn’t look the handsome stranger in the face. She stared at his feet and felt herself blushing. She knew it wasn’t a delicate flush, but a searing red, covering her neck and cheeks. She could feel the warmth of her embarrassment and was embarrassed even more by the rosy betrayal of her emotions. The stranger, Jan Borjesson, squeezed her shoulders and laughed.
“I’m a missionary, and I’ll get you and your children out of here. We’ll talk later about where you want to go. Now, I must sit with the elders of the tribe and talk. They’ll probably want me to stay a few days to tell them stories from the Book, then I’ll take you to the nearest white settlement. Take your children back to your tepee.” He gave her a little shake at the same time using a finger to raise her chin. She had to look at him. “Everything is going to be all right.”
He smiled, and Tildie felt that everything would, indeed, be all right. She thanked God as she herded the children away from the center of the village.
“Who is he?” asked Boister.
“Could you call him Pa till we get out of here, Boister?” Tildie asked. She knew he’d been listening so that he really knew as much as she did. The important thing was to aid the stranger in their release from the Indians. Surely the Indians would let the little family go peacefully. They’d never shown any hostility toward her or the children.
Boister looked over his shoulder and studied the white man. He stood taller than the tallest of the warriors.
Boister’s solemn face reflected the seriousness of his thoughts. He’d never given John Masters the privilege of being called Pa. This stranger had done nothing to deserve the honor. He looked up at Tildie’s expectant face.
“If you do, the little ones will,” she explained. “It’ll make it easier for the Indians to let us go.”
“He’s going to take us away?” he asked.
Tildie nodded. “Back to a white settlement.”
Boister looked down at the dirt, studying his scuffed moccasins. He shrugged. “Guess so,” he said and started moving towards Older One’s tepee.
They ate supper with Older One while the white man, Jan Borjesson, stayed with his Indian friends. Tildie hoped to talk to him soon. She sat brooding over her bowl of venison stew. Was this missionary an answer to her sporadic prayers? Had God honored her with this blessed rescue even when she had displayed so little faith? Humbly, Tildie prayed her thanks. God again demonstrated His grace, for surely she was not worthy of this delivery. Knowing God loved her even in her weakness spread warmth through Tildie’s heart.
In contrast to Tildie’s pensive mood, Older One rejoiced. She grinned at Tildie until Tildie realized what the old woman was thinking and blushed. Older One patted her shoulder and looked into her eyes with such a knowing expression that Tildie blushed again. Each time her eyes met the old woman’s, Tildie felt her cheeks grow warm. Each blush set Older One off in a cackling giggle.
The fire died down. The children slept in their bed. Older One brought in a new dress of soft, smooth leather for Tildie to wear. The eager Indian woman combed and braided Tildie’s blond locks, all the time whispering in her native language words which Tildie could only guess referred to the time when the blond giant would come to the tepee. Older One’s grins and chortling heightened Tildie’s embarrassment.
Tildie ignored Older One, but still she grew impatient for the Swede to come. She wanted information—when they would leave and where he would take them.
At last Older One snored softly. The tepee flap pulled back and Jan Borjesson’s huge form blocked the moonlight.
“Are you asleep?” he whispered.
“No,” Tildie answered, just as quietly.
He extended his hand. “Come and walk with me.”
Tildie rose from the pallet, crossed the small space, and took his hand naturally. His large dog greeted her, and she dropped the man’s hand to pet behind the dog’s soft ears.
“Her name is Gladys,” offered Jan.
“Gladys?” The oddly proper name for a furry beast startled a nervous giggle out of her.
Borjesson nodded his head, smiling down at her with the crooked grin that made him look so like her brother.
“After a schoolteacher from my youth. I was madly in love with her through two and a half grades. She married the blacksmith.”
Tildie looked up at him shyly, wondering if he was teasing her. His face gave nothing away.
They walked through the quiet Indian village. No matter what time of night, there always seemed to be a few Indians awake and watchful. Borjesson nodded to them as they passed, and they returned his nonverbal greeting with grunts and grins. Tildie suspected she knew what they were thinking, and again, she blushed. Perhaps in the moonlight, that telltale red stain would not be noticed by her companion.
At last he indicated they could stop. He offered a seat on a smooth boulder. Gladys sat beside Tildie and rested her chin in her lap. When Tildie did not take the hint, the dog nudged her hand indicating she would gladly accept a good rub behind the ears.
“S’pose you could tell me your name?” asked Jan. “I can’t exactly call you, ‘wife.’”
“Tildie, Matilda Harris.”
“Well, Matilda Harris, you must tell me how best to help you. Where do you wish to go? Where are your people?”
“I have none. I don’t know where to go.”
“Who were the couple who died in the accident?” He then explained, “My friends have given me a full account of how they found you.”
“My aunt and her husband,” she answered readily. “They were taking me to Fort Reynald to marry a grocer named Armand des Reaux.”
The tall man turned abruptly toward her, “You’re to marry des Reaux?” A note of disbelief sharpened his tone.
“I’ve never met him,” she hurried to explain. “My aunt’s husband arranged the marriage. John Masters said he couldn’t afford to keep me.”
“Well, you must certainly not go to Fort Reynald. Des Reaux is a mean, uncouth character. We’ll just cross that off your list of possibilities.” He sat quietly for a moment. “You say your aunt’s husband, not your uncle. Why is that?”
“I came out from Lafayette, Indiana, after the last of my family died. I didn’t realize my aunt’s second husband would be so different from Uncle Henry. I remembered him as generous and warmhearted. They lived near us when I was small.
“At the time it seemed a wise move, and even though the last six months have been difficult, I believe I helped my aunt some and made parts of her life more bearable.”
“Are there relatives from the other side of the children’s family?”
Tildie shook her head. “It’s just me and the three children now.”
Tildie looked away trying to hide her discomfort. She realized this gentle giant thought the children were her own. She didn’t ordinarily lie to someone who’d been kind to her. The blatant falsehood made her tense. Her parents had trained deceit out of her as any Christian parents would. She must tell him the truth, yet she feared he’d then devise some plan for their well-being that would mean separating them all.
Her conscience battled against her fears. Emotionally, she clung to the reasoning that the circumstances justified the lie. Adding to her guilt, his next words proved he wasn’t comfortable with lying, either.
“I’ll have to consider this, Tildie.” He spoke slowly, “I’ve never lied to these people. I worked hard to gain their trust. I don’t like pretending that we’re man and wife, and I would have put an end to it immediately except for a warning from Moving Waters. He believes you’re my woman and he hurried me here because Bear Standing Tall wants you for his own.”
Tildie nodded. “I know which one that must be.” She thought of the man who followed her and helped her with the girls when they fell into the stream.
“Fighting for the right to take you to your own people didn’t seem wise. Identified as my woman, you’re free to go with me.”
She nodded again. So, he was hedging in order to prevent an unpleasant circumstance as well. Somehow, that thought did little to alleviate her own burdened conscience.
“I can take you and the children out of here,” Jan continued, “but I’m not sure where to take you. They would think it most peculiar if I just took you to a nearby town and dumped you.”
“Would they know?”
“Ah, yes, they would know. They are an astute people, and this is their country. They are very aware of all the white men’s movements.”
“How do they explain the three children when you have been in this area for over four years?”
“I travel a lot. Gladys and I have explored thousands of miles. I’ve often been beyond their territory.”
At the mention of her name, Gladys left Tildie’s side to sit at her master’s feet. Jan affectionately petted her, and Tildie noticed for the first time the heavy frosting of white hair around the dog’s muzzle. Man and dog had been companions for a long time. This man knew the country, the Indians, the way of the land. She must trust him, putting their lives in his hand and trusting that this was what her heavenly Father desired.
“What do you think we should do about leaving here?” she asked.
“First, I’ll take you to my cabin. I need to do a few things to leave it for the winter. Then, I’ll take you back to Kansas City. From there you should be able to travel back East.”
“There’s nothing there for us. The children have, I mean, my aunt has… had, a ranch in Colorado close to the Kansas and Texas borders. The land would be ours now. We’re the only relatives.”
“You wish to return there?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“A woman with three children, running a ranch alone. Forgive me, but it doesn’t sound very practical.”
“A woman with three children returning East to no home, with no money or friends does sound practical?”
He grinned. In the moonlight, his teeth shone in that crooked smile. She waited.
He shook his head slowly.
“I don’t have an answer for that one. Can you give me twenty-four hours?”
“I don’t see that there is a point to it. You may try to make up a reason to dissuade me, but the fact is if God is going to introduce more trials in my life, I’d rather be tried in a place familiar to me than tried in a strange place among strangers.”
“You have friends at the ranch?”
“I lived there for six months before John Masters decided to take me to Fort Reynald.”
He was quiet for a moment, looking up to the stars. When he finally spoke, the question startled her. “What happened to your husband?”
“I’ve never had a husband, Mr. Borjesson.”
He turned to look at her then. Although she hadn’t planned to tell him, she was relieved that she had. The deception had made her uneasy, and she knew that God would honor truth.
“I’m only eighteen. I would have had to marry when I was eleven to be Boister’s mother.” Tildie smiled as she saw his face in the moonlight. His expression held no hint of condemnation. “The children are my aunt’s. The Indians assumed they were mine.”
“This does get more complicated, doesn’t it?” The missionary smiled, and she noticed the crinkle lines around his eyes. She was glad she’d told the truth. She nodded, waiting to see what he would say.
“Well, there’s no sense making plans without prayer and a good night’s sleep. God will make the path clear if we don’t rush it. Are you content with that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still here to help you. Do you trust me?”
“As long as you don’t try to separate me from the children or the children from each other.”
“Now, why would I try to do that?”
“Because it’s more practical?”
“I don’t see that tearing a family apart would be God’s way.”
Overwhelming relief flooded through Tildie. She grabbed the giant around the waist and hugged him.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
He laughed and awkwardly patted her on the back. “I haven’t done anything yet.”