According to Chief Black Cat, no one in his village had a quarrel with the men of the fort except Running Wolf.
“But he would not be so foolish as to go against my hospitality toward you,” Black Cat insisted by way of Charbonneau.
So tensions at the fort waned. Still the captains kept the men on premises and well-occupied. April was fast approaching. The snow was nearly gone and the ice on the river was breaking into giant chunks, drifting south.
For five days Pierre kept a most disciplined pace. There were no visits to the villages, no hunting excursions or idle time. All of the men had been doing extra duty, but Pierre especially was kept busy round the clock. Today he was digging out the last of the canoes. But despite his occupation, he couldn’t help but think of Claire.
Had he misjudged her? She was an obstinate woman, an outspoken one, as well, but never in a selfish or hard-hearted way. Had she brought up the business of the land grant because she feared he had not thought of it? Was she concerned about the effect losing something so valuable would have on him? She knew the lure of property, and she had experienced firsthand how badly it felt to have it stolen away.
He pondered that line of thinking a little longer. Does she think herself in the same category as Phillip Granger—if she accepted my proposal she’d be stealing the land away from me?
If that was her motive, and he was becoming more convinced it was by the second, he felt even more ashamed for becoming angry with her. She was acting in my best interest, and yet I accused her of thinking I wasn’t good enough.
There was something else she had said that puzzled him. He had asked her what she wanted.
“What I want most, you cannot give me…”
That sentence haunted him. What had she meant by that? And why was he so desperate to understand? Why did he want so badly to give her whatever she needed to make her happy? Captain Lewis asked if I was in love with her. Am I?
He knew he was definitely attracted to her. He’d been fighting it since he’d first laid eyes on her. The way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way her nose wrinkled and the way she drew in her lips when she got angry. Even the other day when arguing with her, he’d felt the sudden impulse to draw those pert little lips back out with his own. Christian decency had kept him from doing so. One does not go about sporting with a woman who is not one’s wife.
The conflict within him intensified. I did ask her to marry me…but I did so for her protection…
Protection, though, from what, exactly? Was it her uncle’s anger or another man’s arms?
Though he wished to deny it, Pierre was forced to admit that the thought of anyone else holding her, kissing her made him burn with jealousy. He stilled his ax, realizing at last what he felt for her went way beyond the bounds of Christian charity. He was in love with her, and he had been for some time.
He couldn’t help but laugh at his own naïveté and unawareness. All this time he’d told himself he wasn’t the marrying kind, that adventure was all he wanted. But the truth was, he had not been inclined to marry before because he had not found the right woman.
And now that I have…
His jubilation was short-lived. The fact remained that Claire had refused him. She could not come to the Pacific, and she would not return to Saint Louis. The only choice left is to remain here.
Pierre drew in a breath. Could he? Physically, yes. He’d grown accustomed to the harshness of the wilderness and was confident he could survive its challenges. The remoteness of this land did not threaten him. Chief Black Cat had already allowed another white man into his village, namely Charbonneau, and according to the chief, relations between the Mandan and whites were friendly. Black Cat would welcome me. Running Wolf, however, would not.
And what about Claire? He had won her friendship, but could he convince her the land grant no longer mattered to him? Could he win her heart?
The light suddenly dawned on him. “What I want most, you cannot give me…” Beyond the salvation of her family, of her tribe, he knew there was one thing she wanted more than anything in this life. A marriage like her parents had, one of mutual respect, faith and love.
Had he already won her heart? Had she refused him because she thought she did not have his? His mind raced over their last encounter—the looks, the way she’d come to him, clung to him, the fact that she had encouraged him not to forsake the expedition… The possibility made his heart pound. What if she refused because she thinks more of me than she does herself? What if she thinks I proposed only out of a sense of duty?
“How long would it be before you tired of me?” she had asked.
He hadn’t understood what she meant at the time, but now he did, or at least, he hoped he did.
But was he too late? Had he missed his opportunity? Had she become the wife of Three Horses, or worse, Golden Hawk? God forbid it, he prayed. Please don’t punish her for my thick-headed behavior.
“You gonna keep standing there, Frenchie?” Private Howard asked, “or are you going to help us carry her to the river?”
The last of the cottonwood dugouts had been completed and was now to be tested for its worthiness. Pierre hastily lifted his end of the pirogue, carried her to the riverbank. Captain Clark was on hand to supervise the inspection. Satisfied with the canoe’s performance, Clark ordered the men be given rest for the remainder of the day. Pierre was most grateful. He couldn’t wait another minute longer.
“Sir, if I may, I’d like your permission to travel to the village,” Pierre said.
Clark eyed him somewhat suspiciously for a moment, waiting for further information. Pierre did not wish to divulge any more than he must. He was certain Captain Lewis had already informed him of Pierre’s conflicted heart, and of his previous decision to leave the expedition. He did not wish for this man to try to dissuade him. “There is something that I need to set right, sir.”
Matters might already be far beyond his control, but he knew one thing. He had to apologize to her. The blue Pacific, as beautiful as it might be could no longer hold him captive. He’d forever compare every wonder of nature to her. He wanted her to know that, even if it was too late.
“Very well, Lafayette,” Clark said. “I’m headed into the village myself to dine with Chief Black Cat. You may accompany me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Pierre followed Clark as far as the main village square. Then he turned for the lodge of Three Horses. Black Raven was sitting at the entrance, stringing a new bow. He welcomed Pierre with a smile and an enthusiastic, “Bonjour, monsieur.”
So Claire is making progress in language skills, Pierre couldn’t help but think with a smile. “And a good day to you, young warrior,” Pierre replied in Mandan.
“Père… Mère…” Black Raven couldn’t think of the words to explain that his father and mother were inside the lodge, so he simply motioned for Pierre to follow him.
Claire, however, was nowhere to be found. Pierre felt an immediate pang of disappointment followed by a surge of fear. Had she told Three Horses she would not marry him? Had she gone back to her uncle’s lodge?
He did his best to offer pleasant greetings to Three Horses and One Who Smiles. The warrior bid him to join them at the fire.
“I have come to speak to Bright Star,” he said in his best Mandan.
Three Horses nodded slowly.
“I have come to apologize to her. I spoke harshly to her when we last parted.”
Three Horses held up his hand. “This is no matter for my ears,” he said.
“It isn’t?” His heart beat a little faster.
The warrior smiled. “It is but yours and hers alone.”
What was the man saying? So Claire was not his betrothed? Where was she, then?
One Who Smiles must have sensed his thoughts, for she offered Pierre a comforting smile, one that held a hint of mirth. “Do not fear,” she said. “All is well. Bright Star has gone to dig roots with her cousin.”
“With Little Flower?”
“Yes.”
That was a good sign, was it not? Then she was still lodging here. And if Running Wolf was allowing his daughter to associate with Claire again, then perhaps his heart was thawing.
“You are welcome to wait for her return,” Three Horses said.
“Thank you,” Pierre said with a smile. “I will do so.”
* * *
Breadroot or prairie potato was an early spring delicacy in these parts. Claire would have gone already to search for them but was not certain exactly what the plant looked like at this stage and was waiting for One Who Smiles to be strong enough to show her. When Little Flower had come to the lodge and asked Claire to accompany her to the riverbank, she took it as a wonderful, hopeful sign.
Running Wolf had permitted no contact with her among his family since Evening Sky’s death and no real kinship since the night he’d caught Claire and Pierre answering his grandchildren’s questions about Christ.
Mother said God would bring healing, she thought. Was her uncle’s heart beginning to soften?
Both Three Horses and One Who Smiles had taken Little Flower’s arrival in a promising way, as well. “Go,” they said to them, “and good hunting.”
Claire took with her a large grass basket similar to the one her cousin was holding. Little Flower also carried with her two sharp sticks.
“We will search among the driftwood on the riverbank,” she said.
They started toward the river and followed it for some time in the direction opposite the fort.
“We will use our sticks to poke the soft earth,” Little Flower said. “That is how we will find them.”
“Are they buried deeply?”
“Not very. Do not worry. You will find many. I will teach you.”
Claire drew in a breath. The air smelled of water and strong earth. To a Mandan it was the scent of promise, of new life. Perhaps this year will be different here. She desperately wanted to believe that. “I have missed you, cousin,” she said. “I have missed you greatly.”
Little Flower offered her a look that seemed somewhat disconcerted, as though Claire’s words had troubled her in some way. Claire should have read the danger right then and there, but it wasn’t until she and her cousin crested a knoll and were hidden from the view of both the village and the fort that she recognized what was happening. At the bottom of the hill stood Running Wolf. He was holding several horses. Golden Hawk was with him.
An icy chill, one colder than anything she had experienced this winter, shivered down her spine. Instinct told Claire to run. Only her previous prayer kept her from doing so. I told God I would do anything for the sake of my family’s eternity, she reminded herself. But surely this was not what the Creator had in mind for her. How could a union with the medicine man’s son bring about good? What did light and darkness have in common?
“Trust…”
Reluctantly she walked forward. Golden Hawk was looking upon her with a hunger that made her nauseated. Her uncle’s face bore a look of triumph. Claire cast a quick glance at Little Flower. Her cousin had fixed her eyes on the ground, refusing to look at her.
She knew. She knew what was to take place. The offer of teaching me to find roots was only a ruse. Pain cut deep, but Claire did her best to beat back the feeling of betrayal and met the men where they stood.
“You know what Golden Hawk wishes,” Running Wolf said.
“I do.” God, help me.
“He brings fine horses for your price.”
The magnificent creatures stamped and whinnied as if they disliked being traded as much as she did. Still Claire did her best to respond respectfully. It would be better if she did. “He honors you,” she said to Running Wolf.
“He honors you. You will accept him as your husband. You will go to his lodge today.”
“Trust…”
But trust did not mean silence. Conviction far outweighed the sickening feeling inside her. So did something else. Strength. “I cannot do so, uncle.”
Horses’ lines in one hand, Running Wolf grabbed her chin with his other and jerked her head upward. His grip was like iron. His eyes flashed fire. “You will not dishonor me,” he said.
Claire swallowed hard, but her voice did not waver. “I do not wish to dishonor you, uncle, but neither can I dishonor my God.”
“You cling to your white man’s religion still? Even after what happened to your mother?” He struck her across the face with such force that Claire fell into the mud.
Claire heard Little Flower gasp but did not look her way. She stood to her feet slowly, straightening to full height, though she kept her chin at a respectful level as she faced her uncle once more. “Beat me if you must,” she said. “But I will never willingly enter into marriage with Golden Hawk. The God of all creation forbids it.”
At that, Golden Hawk shouted curses at her, claimed he called the spirits against her. She was not frightened. Despite the threats, a peace settled over her.
“I do not fear your spirits, Golden Hawk,” she said, “nor anything you may seek to do to me.”
Golden Hawk turned his anger then toward Running Wolf. “She is not worthy of my attention! A curse on you and your lodge!” Snatching the horses’ lead lines from Running Wolf’s hand, he stormed back toward the village.
Only one horse remained and that was Running Wolf’s. It was laden with blankets, beads and furs and foremost, his bow. Claire recognized at once that her uncle was prepared to go trading—likely intending to sell the extra horses he had intended to acquire. That opportunity was lost now, and he looked like he was strongly considering using the bow on her.
Her strength faltered. Fear threatened to creep in. Am I to be murdered by my mother’s brother? Is my own cousin to witness the deed?
Fear, however, wasn’t the prominent emotion washing over her. Regret was. She regretted that she’d not spoken more boldly of the truth of Scripture when she had the opportunity. She regretted that she had not been brave enough to tell Pierre how she actually felt about him. Now he will never know.
“Trust…”
Apparently Little Flower had no intention of witnessing a killing. Dropping her basket and sticks, she lifted her buckskin skirt and took off up the hill. Running Wolf called after her, but she did not look back. Claire could hear her crying as she ran.
Her desertion made Running Wolf all the angrier. “You have cost me much, woman,” he said, spitting the words from his lips. “If you will not bring me the price of a bride then you shall fetch that of a slave. I shall sell you to the Assiniboine tribe. They will teach you the penalty for defying the ways of one’s ancestors.”
To resist was futile. He would only knock her out and then throw her over the back of his horse. So Claire stood still as he tied a length of sinew about her wrists.
God will supply my need, she thought.
Running Wolf dragged her toward his horse. Instead of growing weak with fear, Claire found her body, her voice growing stronger. God was giving her courage.
“You will do as you must,” she said to her uncle. “But I will never forsake the one true God.”
“We shall see about that,” Running Wolf said.