Although the boom of a cannon and a volley of musket fire jolted Claire from her dreamy sleep, she was not alarmed by the sounds. She knew their significance. The firing of the guns was the soldiers’ way of marking celebration. Christmas morning had come.
Claire drew in a deep, satisfied breath, filling her lungs with the scent of wood and pine. Across the hut her mother still lay sleeping, her face toward the wall. Good, Claire thought. Evening Sky needed the rest after the previous evening. The two of them had talked until the wee hours of the morning, till the candles waned and their eyelids grew heavy. Her mother had loved the cross necklace Claire had made for her and repeatedly told her how much she had enjoyed the gift of a celebration, particularly the decoration.
“Young Lafayette is a kind and considerate man,” she said.
“Indeed, he is.”
Long after her mother had drifted off to sleep, Claire lay beneath her own pile of blankets and buffalo skins, recounting every detail of the moments shared with him. The Scripture reading and singing had strengthened her soul. The hanging of the greens had delighted her senses. The feel of Mr. Lafayette, of Pierre, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his lips had stirred her heart.
It stirs it still. She didn’t know whether to blush or giggle, to feel ashamed or happy. Pierre Lafayette was on the verge of stealing her heart, a feat no man had yet to accomplish, and she knew she could not allow that to happen.
Last night, for one quick moment, she had the audacity to wonder if he just might be the answer to her prayers. But that cannot be! He was handsome, yes, and he had come to her aid. He’d shown respect to her and her mother. He’d become a friend, but that didn’t make him a potential husband.
Mr. Lafayette was an honorable man. He was not, however, interested in courtship. The chill of winter will eventually surrender to the warmth of spring. The Missouri will thaw and he will be on his way. He has his duties. I have mine. I cannot allow myself to become distracted from my true purpose here, to bring the good news to my family, my tribe.
Yet as much as she wanted to discount the thoughts that had passed through her mind last night, to claim they were the simple product of a lonely woman reaching out to a kind soul, she couldn’t.
She tried to force Pierre from her thoughts but found her curiosity only growing. Claire couldn’t help but wonder where he was at that moment and what exactly he was doing. Had he been successful in his hunt? Was he now in the process of dressing a prize elk or buffalo?
She remembered how skillfully he had worked with his hatchet last night, how deft his hands had been fashioning the boughs into wreaths. He was quick and strong, but he’d been most gentle when he had touched her.
She indulged for a moment in that vein until a forceful knock on the door jolted her back to reality. Hastily donning her buffalo robe, Claire answered the summons. Captain Clark stood waiting outside. He cast her what she thought was a curious look, one that made her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Could he tell what she had just been thinking?
“My apologies for disturbing you, Miss Manette,” he said.
Claire blushed even further. It was a holiday, yes, but this man was dressed in his full uniform, and his boots were already muddy. Clearly he had been up and about for hours. Here she was with her hair still loose about her shoulders.
“Captain Lewis wishes to see you,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
Limited language skills aside, she could tell he did not wish to elaborate. A chill shivered through her. Something was wrong. Her thoughts immediately flew to Pierre. Had he been injured on his hunt?
Or was it something even worse? Had she mistaken the cause behind the discharge of weaponry? Was there some impeding danger? The Sioux had come marauding only weeks ago, as they often did, thieving and bent on bloodshed. As Pierre had once so ruefully remarked, war was a way of life here on the frontier. Have the Sioux returned? Have they captured Pierre?
Her knees felt weak, her throat dry. Unable to formulate further words, she nodded to Captain Clark. He quickly turned on his heel. Closing the door behind him, Claire hurriedly pulled on her leggings and moccasins. Rather than take the time to plait her hair, she twisted it into a bun. Her hands were trembling, but she managed to secure the locks with her twigs. During all this, Evening Sky stirred slightly beneath her bedding, but Claire was able to slip outside the door without waking her.
Low, heavy clouds shrouded the fort, speaking the promise of more snow. The air seemed colder than it had last night. The chill went all the way through her bones. There were few soldiers on the parade ground this morning. Claire wanted to think them still sleeping or off on the hunt, but fear told her they were preparing for battle. If so, what would be the outcome for them? What would be the outcome for her and her people?
She reached the officers’ quarters. Captain Lewis met her at the door. His features were grave and taut. “Thank you for coming, Miss Manette.”
“Are men danger?” she asked in stunted English. “Hunt? Sioux?”
Lewis blinked, and then realized her concern. “No. No. I’ve had no word of anything amiss with the hunt, nor with the neighboring Sioux.”
She heaved a sigh of relief but realized she had just betrayed herself. If this man was as observant and intelligent as he appeared to be, he’d have little trouble knowing why, or rather, for whom exactly she had first been concerned.
How foolish am I? I’ve left no secret as to where my heart is becoming inclined.
Lewis ushered her inside his quarters. Claire stepped in to find Toussaint Charbonneau leaning casually against the wall. Sacagawea was seated on a stool in the corner. She smiled at Claire. Claire returned the expression, but not without difficulty. She knew what the couple’s presence here, clearly on good terms again with the captain, would now mean for her.
Captain Lewis cleared his throat. “As you can see, Miss Manette, Mr. Charbonneau and his wife have returned. Therefore, your services will no longer be needed.”
Her disappointment was palpable. The only emotion stronger was guilt. Foolish girl! Why do you mourn? You knew this work was only temporary. You should have been more careful. You have allowed Pierre Lafayette to become a distraction from your real purpose here!
Captain Lewis walked to his desk. His chair creaked as he sat down. After studying her pensively for a moment, he said, “Miss Manette, I must confess, I am hesitant to see you return to your village. If you wish, I could find other work for you. You could remain here, but you and your mother would have to share the living space with Charbonneau and his wife.”
He signaled for the Frenchman to translate, but Claire held up her hand. She understood the message. If you wish, I could find other work for you… A part of her did wish just that. For all her prayers, for all her talk of faith, she feared returning to her uncle’s lodge.
But what good is postponing the inevitable? She was going to have to go back one day. The longer she remained in Pierre Lafayette’s company, the harder it would be when the time came for him to leave.
And there was a bigger issue at stake here, bigger than the matter of her personal safety. My people need the Lord. And if that means sacrificing my life, my health and happiness, what price is that to pay in the light of eternity?
Her mind was made up. Rather than try to stumble through an explanation in English, she asked Charbonneau to translate. “Thank you, Captain, for your concern. I do appreciate all of the kindness you have shown me and my mother. It has been a great honor to be of assistance to you, but I must return to my people. My family has need of me, and I must not delay any longer.”
Lewis leaned back in his chair, studied her again for a moment. She prayed he would not ask her to reconsider her decision. If he tried to persuade her to stay, she would likely do just that. His kindness served only to make the choice harder to accept. How different her thoughts were of this place than when she first arrived. Here she was protected. Here she was treated with respect.
But I cannot stay! I have to go back to the village!
Captain Lewis sighed. Evidently he recognized her decision as final. “I’ll have one of my men ready a horse. He will escort you and your mother back to the village.”
It would be better if I simply went, she thought, for what soldier might he choose? What if Pierre arrived back at the fort in time to become the commanded escort? Would she be able to say goodbye to him without revealing her growing feelings? “Thank you, Captain, but do no not trouble your soldiers, especially on this day of celebration. I’ve no need for an escort, but if I may beg your indulgence, I’ll take the horse. After I deliver my mother safely to her lodge, I’ll return it to you, along with the first animal you loaned to my uncle.”
If, that is, Running Wolf is willing to return it without incident. Uncertainty washed over her in waves. Oh, God, am I doing the right thing?
But the Almighty did not answer. Captain Lewis shook his head no. “I’ll come for my horses tomorrow,” he said.
Tomorrow. Just what would tomorrow bring? Her uncle had said that her year of mourning had come to an end. Would she be given to the first warrior in sight upon her return to the village? Would Pierre Lafayette sympathize with her plight? Seek to rescue her? Would he even think of her at all?
She was very close to panic, and she knew she could not allow herself to go there. Lord, please give me the courage to follow Your path. Reclaim my heart and please, forgive me for allowing myself to become distracted by earthly pursuits of happiness. Help me remember that no man is my hope. You are my hope.
Her breathing slowed somewhat. “By your leave, Captain,” she said, and with a final curtsy, she turned to go.
Returning to the hut, Claire found her mother up and dressed.
“There is sadness in your eyes,” Evening Sky observed at once.
Claire tried to explain without explaining too much. “Sacagawea’s husband has returned. They have no need for me here now.”
“And we are to return to our village?”
Yes, she should have said, but again she wavered. She told Evening Sky of the captain’s offer.
“And you said no to him.”
Claire nodded. “I did not think it was proper to take work from Sacagawea.”
Her mother smiled knowingly. “That is not all of it.”
“No, it isn’t,” Claire admitted. She could feel the heat building in her cheeks but couldn’t bring herself to admit what exactly was causing it. There were other reasons to leave, very important ones. “We are no longer needed here,” she said. “We are needed there. Besides, these walls are too thin. This cold is not good for you. A warm lodge will be better.”
“You wish to honor me, I know,” her mother said. “But do not try to humor me.” She kissed her daughter’s head. “I am not the only one who occupies your heart.”
“That will soon pass,” Claire said, more for her own benefit than that of her mother. Then she began gathering her belongings. There weren’t that many to sort, just her Bible, comb and brush. The scarlet dress was hanging on a peg in the corner of the room. Conscious of the tremble in her hands, provoked by what it represented, Claire took it down, folded it carefully and placed it inside her deerskin pouch.
With her mother’s meager belongings now packed as well, Claire took one last glance about the hut, gave one last thought to the lists she had compiled here and to the man she’d worked alongside. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she picked up her and her mother’s sacks and stepped outside.
Private Cruzette had readied a horse. He was standing at the gate, waiting for them. Claire helped her mother mount the animal. After securing their bags, she took the reins from the soldier.
“Merci,” she said.
He doffed his cap, then moved to open the door. The wide, white prairie stretched out before her. Resisting the urge to scan the horizon for any sign of the hunting party, Claire started forward. She kept her eyes solely on her destination, the village across the river. There was her future.
Steeling her resolve, she determined to put all thoughts of Pierre Lafayette out of her mind, but as the gate closed behind her, the thoughts came once more. Why did she feel as though she were somehow leaving her life behind?
* * *
“Well done, Lafayette,” Private Howard cheered as the buffalo fell to the snow with a thud. “With this and Coulter’s elk, there will be good eating for the next few days.”
“Indeed,” Pierre said. “A feast.” Just like I promised.
His chest swelled with pride until Jessaume said, “Maybe your squaw can make us some poudingue blanc.”
Pierre’s jaw immediately tightened. It wasn’t that he disliked white pudding, or any other buffalo delicacy. It was who Jessaume thought should prepare the meal—and the way he’d characterized her. “She isn’t my squaw,” he insisted.
Jessaume laughed. “It certainly appeared as though she was last night.”
“Indeed,” added Coulter, “you practically pushed poor Howard out of the way when he tried to sit next to her.”
Now all the men were laughing, except, of course, Pierre. Handing Jessaume his smoking musket, he moved toward his kill. He knew if he were to respond any further to the ribbing he would be in danger of telling a lie—or worse. He’d own up to what he was really thinking about Claire Manette, and that was something he wasn’t about to admit to anyone, especially himself.
Claire.
Words could not adequately describe the feeling that came over him when she had given him permission to address her by her Christian name, nor the near rapture he’d experienced as he pressed his lips to her hand.
She was an adventure in her own right, a mixture of mystery and frankness, softness and steel. A woman like that could snuff the flame of wanderlust in a man. And if I’m not careful, that is exactly what will happen to me. I’ll find my roaming cut short, leaving me bound, just like this poor beast here.
Pushing his thoughts of her aside, he began to field dress the animal. As long as he kept focused on his task, he was fine. The second he thought about returning to the fort, he knew he was in trouble. Why was she so prominent in his thoughts? He had seen pretty faces, shared friendships with intelligent women before, but they had never affected him like this.
The men loaded the buffalo on to the sleigh, secured it for transport. Pierre wanted to trek farther, see what else they could find, but Jessaume, Coulter and Howard were against it.
“It’s well after noon now,” Coulter said. “We had better start back if we want to reach the fort before dark.”
“It is supposed to be a holiday,” Pierre grumbled under his breath, but he knew Coulter was right. They had stayed on the plains overnight before and in weather much colder than this, but previously they’d had their captains’ permission to do so. Today we do not.
“Cheer up, man,” Howard teased. “Your mademoiselle will be waiting.”
That was exactly what Pierre feared. He had seen the look in her eyes when he’d bid her good-night. Was she enjoying his company as much as he was hers? If so, that would put a serious strain on his resolve to avoid romance.
It would be a romance that could lead nowhere, have no point. I’m leaving this place and she will remain here.
He sighed to himself. I’ve no one to blame for this but myself. Why had he asked her to dance? Why had he gone to all that trouble, trekking through the snow, gathering greens? It wasn’t completely a wish to bring Christmas cheer to her mother.
Tomorrow will be back to business as usual, he told himself. The frivolity of Christmas will be only a memory. There will be tasks to complete, drills and inspections. They were a military expedition, after all. Eventually the snow would melt and they would march westward.
Today spring seemed like an eternity away and the fabled Pacific Ocean even farther. The snow was deep, and the fresh flakes falling made the going even harder. By the time they reached the south bank of the Missouri, Pierre was chilled to the bone. He was tired, and he was miserable. Christmas or not, he was in no mood for socializing tonight. If Mademoiselle Manette is waiting at the gate, I won’t be captivated by her eyes this time. I won’t linger. I’ll give her a nod, tell her the hunt was good and inform her when she can expect to claim a piece of meat. After that I’ll collect a mug of something warm, change my clothing and climb into bed.
And yet as soon as he stepped into the fort, his eyes betrayed him. While Captain Lewis came to inquire of their success, Pierre found himself scanning the grounds, searching for her. She was nowhere to be found. Toussaint Charbonneau, however, was.
“Mademoiselle Manette was relieved of her duties and returned to her village this afternoon,” Lewis said, as if reading his thoughts.
Pierre’s heart quickened, and all desire to distance himself from her vanished like ice under a warm spring sun. “Returned to her village?”
“Yes.”
“You mean, to her uncle?”
“Yes.” Evidently the captain considered the matter finished, for he turned his attention to Jessaume, Coulter and Howard, giving them directions concerning the distribution of the meat.
Pierre’s mind was reeling. “You sent her back to him? How could you after what he did?”
Captain Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “You forget yourself, Mr. Lafayette. Do not take such an accusatory and insubordinate tone with me.”
Insubordinate? I’m not one of your enlisted soldiers. As a French voyager, I am free to come and go as I please. And accusatory? Did he not send her back to Running Wolf? Surely accusation was warranted! Any officer stupid enough to send her back to such a man doesn’t deserve my allegiance or respect.
He turned on his heel, started for the gate. There was only one thing on his mind right now, one mission. He had to be sure Claire was alright.
Private Howard caught his arm. “Don’t do it, man. You’ll suffer the lash—or worse. Remember Newman?”
John Newman, an original member of the expedition, had been court-martialed for insubordination. He was the man who would be returning to Saint Louis on the keelboat in the spring, the man Pierre was replacing.
Lewis called out, “Stand fast, Mr. Lafayette!”
Only then did Pierre realize his foolishness. He froze. What was wrong with him? Had he been touched by fever? Had he really intended to defy his captain’s orders, set out alone to find Claire? Then what? Spirit her away from her uncle, her tribe? And go where? And at what cost?
One step more and I’ll be on the keelboat with Newman. Or was he already? Pierre turned back to face his angry captain. Lewis’s face was seething. Pierre didn’t know if an apology would help or hurt, but he took a chance and spoke first.
“Forgive me, Captain. You are right. I forget myself.”
Lewis’s hard expression remained. He stared at Pierre, clearly trying to decide what course of action best to undertake. Pierre held his breath.
“You walk on thin ice, Lafayette,” Lewis said finally, his teeth clenched. “I advise you never to place yourself in such a position again.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain turned on his heel, strode away, but Pierre felt little relief. He had maintained his position with the expedition, at least for now, but what about Claire? Sacagawea, who had watched the entire scene from the left of the gate, came to him. She made several signs, obviously trying to tell him something important, but just what, Pierre had no idea.
Her husband came to translate. “My wife is trying to tell you that your squaw left the fort of her own accord,” Charbonneau said.
“Of her own accord?”
Charbonneau nodded. So did Sacagawea. “I was there when Lewis summoned her. He offered her the opportunity to stay, promised to find her other work, but she said no.”
With that, the Frenchman and his wife walked back to their hut, the one Pierre had once worked in with Claire.
Pierre stood there on the parade ground. The snow continued to fall and the temperature had dropped considerably. He was shivering, but he paid his physical condition little mind. Charbonneau’s words echoed in his ears.
Of her own accord? Why would Claire go back to her uncle if the captain had granted her leave to remain here? Pierre had seen the tears in her eyes, felt the tremble in her hands the night Running Wolf had attempted to trade her. Why would she willingly go back to such a man? Why would she knowingly put herself in harm’s way?
And what, if anything, was he to do about it?