It was well after midnight and the lodge was full of snoring. Evening Sky now slept, as did the rest of her family. With that relative privacy, Claire took the opportunity to open Pierre’s letter.
“Dear Claire…”
It was little more than a greeting of cordiality, of friendship, but the phrase warmed her heart all the same. Pierre’s handwriting was bold and precise, yet fluid, the mark of a highly educated gentleman. A man who does not belong here. A man who has vast dreams, as endless as the western sky.
She studied his script in the flickering firelight.
It is with great regret that I pen these words. Perhaps I should not risk writing them at all, let alone having them delivered, but I was compelled to offer my sincerest apologies for what has occurred…
He went on to say how sorry he was for all that had happened to her and her mother.
Had I, a white man, not come into your lodge the night of the medicine dance, then perhaps Running Wolf would not have become so enraged and your mother would not have become injured.
He was probably correct in assuming that, but Claire did not begrudge his intrusion. Had he not come, she would not have learned of her mother’s true physical condition, and he would not have been there to steady her when she did.
Oh, how she had needed his encouragement in that moment. When Captain Lewis declared nothing could be done except treat her mother’s pain, Claire thought her own life would drain out of her. Were it not for the steady look in Pierre’s eyes, she was certain her knees would have buckled. He might be bound by the expedition’s code not to interfere in tribal matters, but he had transmitted his compassion nevertheless.
Pain raked her heart afresh, but Claire forced herself to keep reading. He informed her that Captain Lewis had insisted he stay away from the village, at least for a few days, in order to be certain Running Wolf’s anger toward him had abated. Pierre promised that he was with her in spirit. “I am praying for you…” and in hopes of offering her encouragement, he had enclosed several pages that he had removed from his own Bible. He’d sent her the book of Philippians and had marked a particular verse.
“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus…”
Claire clutched the paper to her chest. Supply all my needs… It had been difficult to believe such things when marriage and complete assimilation into the tribe were her only concerns. Those matters paled in comparison to what burdened her now. She knew God was not one to broker deals, but she’d pay any price for the return of her mother’s health.
Evening Sky stirred in her sleep. She grimaced as the pain of both her external wound and internal ones intensified. Claire pulled the buffalo robe to her mother’s chin, then lightly stroked her hair.
“‘My God shall supply all your need…’” She repeated the verse softly, forcing herself to believe. Whether her mother heard or not she did not know.
Sunrise came and the lodge stirred to life. Although normally chatty and pleasant, Little Flower seemed distant this morning. She was not the only one. Spotted Eagle and River Song offered no hugs or accounts of their previous evening’s dreams. They spoke not a word to her or to Evening Sky as they breakfasted around the fire. In fact, Spotted Eagle would not even look at them.
What has happened? Has Running Wolf told our family not to speak to us?
Claire supposed she should have suspected such a thing, especially after she had declared she would still speak the name of Jesus if asked. And now that Mother has refused the medicine man’s chants…what difficulties lie ahead?
Swallowing her fears, Claire whispered a prayer and continued with her tasks as she always did. Her family might not be speaking to her, but she would still continue to speak to them.
“Come, River Song,” she said cheerfully, “let me wipe your face. Your great aunt is in need of rest this morning.”
The child obeyed. She even giggled when Claire touched the warm cloth to her skin. Spotted Eagle, however, came and stole her away.
“We stay on this side of the lodge, sister,” he told the girl.
Claire swallowed back her hurt, then took a bowl of corn to her mother. Evening Sky was now awake but managed only a spoonful of food.
“That’s all, Bright Star. Thank you.”
“Some tea?” Claire asked hopefully.
“No. Just let me rest.”
Reluctantly Claire returned to the center fire. As soon as she did, Little Flower gathered up her children and took them outside. Evening Sky returned to sleep. Claire did her best to go about her usual routine, but the stillness of the lodge was heartbreaking. She was sitting by the fire, grinding dried corn, when Three Horses, a respected warrior of about Running Wolf’s age, stepped into the lodge. Silencing her mortar and pestle, Claire immediately nodded to the man.
“My uncle is not here, honored one. He has gone to the lodge of our chief.”
“I come not for him,” Three Horses said. “I come to speak with you.”
Claire couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “With me?” What would he want with her?
Laying aside her tools, she stood and invited Three Horses to claim a seat beside the fire. He declined.
“Come,” he motioned. “See my son.”
Claire hesitated slightly, but knowing a warrior’s command could not be easily dismissed, she laid another blanket over her mother and followed Three Horses to his home. His teenage son, Black Raven, had recently suffered a severe case of frostbite to his toes while staying overnight to hunt on the prairie. Three Horses had gone to the fort for assistance. Claire wondered if the captains’ treatment of the boy had failed.
And if it has, why is he calling upon me? Had word gotten around the village already that she and her mother had turned away the medicine man? Did Three Horses believe Claire’s God more powerful?
She stepped into the warrior’s lodge. Three Horses’s wife, Cries Like a Dove, sat beside her son’s pallet. A worried expression filled her face.
“Show her,” her husband said.
As Cries Like a Dove lifted the buffalo skin from her son’s feet, Claire sucked in a breath. The toes of one had turned completely black.
“The white Chief with the beaver skin hat said this could happen,” Three Horses said. “That if it does then the toes must come off.”
Claire winced.
“Do you believe this to be true?” he asked.
She did not wish for it to be so, but even she could tell something must be done, and Captain Clark had much more expertise in this area than she. “If that is what he said, then yes, I believe it to be so. He is an honorable man. He would not wish to inflict pain upon your son.”
“But there will be pain,” Cries Like a Dove said.
Claire hated to be the bearer of such bad news, for this family had suffered through more hard times than most in this village. Cries Like a Dove had once been called by a different name—She Who Smiles, but smiles had turned to tears after the loss of not one but four children, all before they had seen the light of day. She was pregnant once again, and Claire prayed the circumstances would be different this time.
“But you believe there will be worse pain if nothing is done,” Three Horses said to her. She nodded her agreement.
While husband and wife discussed the matter further, Claire knelt before Black Raven’s pallet. “You are a strong young warrior,” she said.
The boy tried to smile, but she could see the fear in his eyes.
“Will you pray to your God that He will grant favor, that I will soon be hunting again?”
Her heart was touched with encouragement. She tried to offer Black Raven the same. “Yes. I will gladly pray to my God. It will be my privilege to speak to Him on your behalf.”
This time the boy offered more of a smile. Three Horses then came and scooped him up into his arms.
“I will take him to the white chief,” he said.
Claire nodded respectfully, and then looked at Cries Like a Dove. Her face was beset with tears, but she, too, nodded.
“Go with them,” she pleaded, “for you speak the white man’s tongue.”
Claire wanted to be of assistance, of course, but beyond moral support for the family, she wasn’t really needed at the fort. Sacagawea’s husband would be there. He could speak the languages necessary for communication. She did not wish to leave her mother, especially now that the rest of her family was slighting her.
Cries Like a Dove must have guessed as much, although what details she actually knew, Claire could not say. “I shall tend to Evening Sky in your absence,” she offered.
This was a tender woman, and Claire knew she would care for her mother most gently. Though appreciative, Claire still hesitated. If she went to the fort, she might see Pierre.
But this is an opportunity to show this family the love of God. “Very well,” she told Three Horses’s wife. “I shall accompany your family to the fort.”
* * *
Pierre recognized Claire even before she had finished crossing the ice. A warrior was traveling with her. In his arms he carried a bundle. Pierre’s heart thumped at the sight of her, half in excitement, half in fear. Why was she coming to the fort? Had something dreadful happened to her? To her mother? Was Running Wolf putting her out of the village? Had Pierre precipitated such by his letter?
Worried for her welfare, he had labored over the correspondence for hours by the flicker of candlelight. He would much rather have spoken to her face-to-face, seen for himself how she and her mother were faring, but Captain Lewis had insisted he remain at the fort. He could not go against the man again. If he did, Pierre doubted Lewis would even wait for the ice to thaw before sending him back to Saint Louis. He was liable to send him packing now—and that wouldn’t do Pierre or Claire any good.
He had been especially grieved that her father’s Bible had been destroyed. He knew how much it had meant to her and her mother. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and thinking a few pages of thin paper could be hidden easier than an entire book, Pierre had torn out his favorite Bible passage and enclosed it in his letter.
“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”
The verse from Philippians was the one that had given him courage to finally step out on his own. Now he wondered if his good intentions had caused further trouble. Had Running Wolf found the Scripture pages? Although the warrior could not read French, he was smart enough to know what they were if he found them—especially since he had probably seen the pages of his brother-in-law’s Bible many times.
Captain Lewis’s warning echoed in his ears. “You are here to observe, not interfere…”
The sun glare upon the snow was wreaking havoc on his eyes, but as she came closer, Pierre realized the Indian accompanying her was not her uncle, and the bundle he carried was not a collection of blankets and goods but an injured boy.
Leaving the hunting party that was about to depart, Pierre hurried to meet Claire. As she recognized him, a momentary look of happiness filled her face, one that warmed his heart. The look, however, was quickly replaced by an expression of seriousness as she explained why she had come.
“Captain Clark told Three Horses that if this should happen, he was to come to the fort.”
Pierre felt sorry for the child and even sorrier for the father who carried him. The man was obviously struggling with his decision to bring him here. Surely he knew what was about to happen. “Captain Clark is presently tending a soldier down with pleurisy,” Pierre said, “but Captain Lewis is available.”
Claire explained this to the warrior. Apparently convinced that one captain was as good as the other, he nodded his approval.
“Would you kindly escort us to Captain Lewis?” she asked Pierre.
“At once.” He almost added that it would be his pleasure, but of course, given the circumstances surrounding her presence, it was anything but. He wanted to ask her how she and her mother were faring, and if she had read his letter, but he didn’t.
He marched them straight to the captain’s quarters. Lewis was once again at his desk, this time surrounded by the preserved animals and pressed plants he had collected thus far along the route. He left them at once to see to the boy.
“Tell his father that, regrettably, the toes must be removed.”
Claire did so. Three Horses’ strong jaw twitched, but he nodded his consent.
“Mr. Lafayette,” the captain then said, “I could use your assistance.”
“Yes sir.” Pierre would do whatever necessary to help, of course, but surgery was a skill he had not yet acquired. Thankfully the only real assistance asked of him was fetching bandages and blocking the child’s view of the procedure.
The Indian boy bore the gruesome trial bravely. The few times he wavered, Pierre had laid his hand to his shoulder, patted him encouragingly or showed him his knife. The boy took a special interest in that. According to Claire, he wanted to know if Pierre had killed many buffalo with it.
He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He was brave with a musket, but not so brave as to sneak up on such a monstrous beast and prick it with a pin. If Black Raven had felled an animal this way, then he was a warrior indeed.
Captain Lewis removed all of the toes from the boy’s left foot, then carefully wrapped a bandage around it. “Your son will need to remain here for a few days so that I may observe his progress,” he said.
Claire translated the words with grace and reassurance. Her voice was like music to a restless, stormed-tossed soul. The Indian father again nodded his consent.
The captain then offered the man the opportunity to stay with his son. The invitation did not extend to Claire, though he did ask her if she would be kind enough to help settle father and son in a hut.
“Of course, captain,” she said with that quick and proper curtsy. Watching her, Pierre couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if her father had lived. Would she have remained in Illinois or would she have embarked on other adventures?
How different would my life be if I had met her in New Orleans? Pierre had never been interested in courtship or marriage, but perhaps that was because I had yet to find the right woman.
The thought jolted him so that he nearly dropped the bandage roll he was now holding. A smile, a dance, a touch of the hand to convey compassion was one thing, but this was not New Orleans, and he was not in love.
This is an Indian Village, a temporary stop en route to the Pacific.
Besides, she wasn’t interested in him like that, anyway. She had turned blood red in embarrassment at the chief’s suggestion that Pierre might make her his wife.
Awkwardness aside, he couldn’t let her go back to her village without making certain she was alright. After she had settled the guests, he asked her, “May I speak with you for a moment?”
She nodded.
Pierre drew her gently toward the forge. She did not resist his lead. Evidently the blacksmith had gone to gather supplies, but his unattended fire lay smoldering. Pierre gave it a poke. As he did, an odd feeling came over him. This was the place where they had once conspired to bring Christmas cheer. “Are you well?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her eyes told him otherwise. No doubt she was worried about what the future would bring. He couldn’t blame her for that.
“And your mother?”
“She is keeping faith.” Her jaw twitched slightly. “I am trying my best to do the same.”
Pierre swallowed hard. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t coherently phrase his thoughts.
“Thank you for your letter,” she said. “It was a great comfort, especially the Bible passage.”
“I hope it did not cause you further trouble.”
“No. I hid it safely beneath my pallet and read it only when others are sleeping. I must be especially careful now that—”
He waited for her to finish. When she didn’t, he prompted her, “Now that what?”
She looked away.
“Claire?”
Reluctantly she told him about what had happened when the medicine men had come to visit, and how her family had treated her this morning in the aftermath. Listening, Pierre drew in a breath. The chief and Running Wolf were tolerating her faith for now, probably because of what had happened to Evening Sky, but if God did not intervene, the mother was going to die. What was to become of Claire? Forbidden to interfere with tribal customs or not, Pierre had to do something.
“Captain Lewis offered to find you work once before…”
“No,” she said immediately. “That is not the way.”
She turned quickly for the parade ground. He admired her commitment to her family, to her faith, but it scared him to think what she might be asked to give up for the sake of them. He followed her as far as the front gate. The western sky was awash in various shades of gold, red and orange.
She paused to take in the view. “Such beauty,” she said.
He could hear the longing in her voice, the desire for freedom, for peace. “Indeed,” he said. “Sacagawea says that west of here, the great mountains look purple in the fading light.” He paused, then mused, “I wonder how the ocean will look.”
“I should like to see such things…”
“Perhaps one day,” he said.
She turned her eyes to him. “Man is to the road. Woman is to the hearth.”
Wind tugged at her buffalo robe. The fur about her face skimmed her cheeks. Pierre had the sudden desire to reach out and brush it away, but he refrained from doing so.
He looked at her. She looked at him.
“I must go,” she said abruptly. “Cries Like a Dove will be concerned for her family…” She took a step, then stopped, turned back. “And I think that, given the circumstances with my family, it would be better if you did not visit our lodge again.”
Not visit? He could understand if she, like Captain Lewis, thought it best for him to stay away for a few days to allow her uncle’s anger to cool, but the way she’d thrown the sentence to him told him she wanted a more permanent separation. Had he offended her? He asked.
“No,” she said, “of course not.” But she would no longer look him in the eye. “It would just be better if…”
“I promised I would protect you.” He waited. “Claire, look at me…”
When she finally lifted her eyes, her look was hard, stubborn. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. “I don’t need your protection,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…my mother has need of me.”
With that, she hurried off. Pierre stood dumbstruck, watching her disappear in the fading winter light.
* * *
Claire hurried from the fort as fast as she could manage. She knew coming here had been a mistake. She was thankful that Black Raven had been tended. Thankful that Captain Lewis was confident his foot could be saved. She was thankful Three Horses had been permitted to stay with his son during his recovery. But when she thought of Pierre, gratefulness battled with a hundred other emotions.
She had stood beside a noble and kind man, clad in buckskin, his beard and hair once again as ragged as any ruffian trader. He, like her, was caught somewhere between two civilizations, not fully at home in either. Today, though, in the middle of the dark, ramshackle hut, they had helped a suffering Mandan boy and comforted a worrying father. Between them, they had exchanged glances and assured each other that things would be alright. She had never felt more at home. With him at her side, Claire felt as though she could face any challenge, meet any danger that came her way.
And then, the way he looked at me when I told him about my family…when I told him how Spotted Eagle pulled his sister away and how my own cousin fled my presence as if I carried the plague…
He’d felt her pain, and in sharing it added an entirely new level to her own. She could claim that all she felt for him was friendship, the fellowship of a Christian brother or the longing for her father’s culture, but she knew the truth. She was falling in love with a man who did not share her feelings.
And he will be gone by spring.
Claire felt the air rush from her lungs. If it hurt this badly to think of him leaving, what would she suffer when he actually did? He had spoken of purple mountains, of vast oceans, all things she would never see, although when he had spoken of them, she’d wanted nothing more than for him to gather her in his arms, kiss her and then carry her off to that place.
How can I even be thinking of such things, let alone desiring them, when my family, my tribe is in such desperate need? How can I long for escape when my mother needs me so?
She quickened her pace. Despite Claire’s prayers, Evening Sky was gravely ill, and Cries Like a Dove would be most anxious to learn of her son’s fate. Captain Lewis had assigned Pierre to tend the boy. Claire knew both Black Raven and his father would be well looked after.
I was right in asking him not to visit the lodge again. He has his duties. I have mine. And with Running Wolf suspicious of him, it will be better if he remains at the fort. It will certainly be better for me.
She told herself that repeatedly, but her heaviness of heart stayed with her all the way back to the village.