Pierre hadn’t liked leaving the village, but he did so reluctantly. Given what had happened the last time he had tarried, coupled with his previous hesitancy to obey Captain Lewis, he thought it prudent to do so. Claire had insisted all would be well, but just in case, he asked Charbonneau to keep an eye on her.
The Frenchman returned to the fort just before dark. “All is quiet,” he announced. “Full bellies produce sound sleep.”
“Did you see her uncle?” Pierre asked.
“Yes. I saw him sitting at the chief’s special fire before I left. Evidently Black Cat had smoothed over his ruffled feathers by inviting him and his hunters to dine with him.”
Charbonneau told him not to worry, but of course that was easier said than done. Pierre tossed and turned in his bunk for hours. The bugle sounded all too soon. He slid from his bedding only to greet another cold morning. A skin of ice coated the water in the wash basin, causing most of his fellow adventurers to forgo that morning ritual. Grumbling and yawning, they each layered up their clothing, tugged on their hats and gloves. Grabbing their muskets, they headed for the parade ground.
Captain Clark was already afield. Pierre and the others assembled in front of him, but before the officer could issue the daily assignments, a call came from the catwalk. Private George Shannon, the sentinel on duty, announced that an Indian rider was approaching.
“He’s comin’ in awfully fast, sir. Looks to be some sort of trouble.”
At that, Pierre’s muscles tightened and every man, including Captain Clark, stood a little straighter. Were the Sioux once again on the prowl?
“Is it a single rider?” Clark asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you yet tell who it appears to be?”
“Appears to be the boy who stayed here. The one who lost his toes.”
Pierre blinked. Why was Black Raven coming to the fort? Then he remembered the story Claire had shared about the boy’s mother having decided to follow Christ. His pulse quickened. Has there been some sort of trouble because of that decision? Was Claire in danger?
Captain Clark gave the order to open the gate for the boy. With Charbonneau already dispatched on other business, Clark called Pierre forward to assist with translation. Pierre did the best he could, but the boy was talking so fast that even if he’d had a better grasp of the Mandan language, the task would have been difficult. He heard Captain Lewis’s name mentioned. Then he thought he heard the word for baby.
“Has your mother’s time come?” he asked. “Is she in distress?”
The boy made signs to indicate the child was on its way but something was wrong. “Medicine,” he said.
Pierre looked at Captain Clark. The officer nodded. “Fetch Captain Lewis.”
Pierre hurried to do so. He was relieved to know Claire was not in danger, but it distressed him greatly that her friend was.
Having heard the commotion on the parade ground, Captain Lewis stepped from his hut. “What is amiss?” he asked.
Pierre quickly explained. Fetching his doctoring kit, Captain Lewis ran for the gate. One of the soldiers had already saddled his horse, and apparently under Captain Clark’s direction, a mount had been prepared for Pierre, as well.
“Sir, I’m not certain how much help I can be,” he said. “I speak very little Mandan.”
“But you speak French,” Clark said. “And so does Miss Manette.”
So he and Captain Lewis, along with Black Raven, galloped toward the river. Navigating the ice carefully, they burst again into speed once they had climbed the far bank. The snow impeded their pace somewhat, but they still managed to make it to the village in record time.
Women there were going about their daily chores, while the men were visiting in their usual spot beneath the great tree. Though a few cast a glance at the white men, no one seemed all that alarmed. Pierre noted Running Wolf was suspiciously absent from the group, but having no time to ponder the potential reasons, he continued on with the captain.
Reaching the lodge, Pierre and Lewis left the horses in the care of Black Raven, then stepped inside. It took a moment for Pierre’s eyes to adjust to the semidarkness. When they did, he was surprised by the emptiness of the lodge. Upon entering he had expected to find a gaggle of women, busy tending to or at least whispering about the pregnant mother. Instead only Claire was at One Who Smiles’s pallet. Standing over them both was Three Horses, the worried-looking husband.
I didn’t know she was a midwife, Pierre thought. Was there nothing this woman could not do?
Claire looked as though she’d never been more relieved to see them. She came to them at once, explaining the circumstances, alternating her attention between Pierre and Captain Lewis.
“The pains began last night,” she said, “just after you left the village. The midwives all gathered. One Who Smiles sent for me. She wanted me to come and pray for her. She did not wish for the women to recite incantations over her.”
“Where are they now?” Lewis asked.
Pierre wondered the same. “Did the women get angry about the prayer? Did they leave?”
“Not at first, but when it became clear that the baby wasn’t progressing, the midwives blamed One Who Smiles. They said she had angered the spirits by refusing their assistance, and they would not stay.”
So they abandoned her? Pierre looked at the woman on the pallet. She was in obvious travail.
“How long has she been like this?” Lewis asked.
“Hours. Captain, I am not skilled in bringing forth children. I begged Three Horses to send for you, but at first he refused, saying he did not wish to anger the spirits.”
So he believed the women, Pierre thought. God, help his wife…help the child…
“I wanted to come to the fort myself, but One Who Smiles forbade me to leave her side. She insisted God would be with her, and she wanted me beside her to help her pray. I reminded Three Horses of Black Raven’s trouble with his feet, of how God had helped him recover.”
Pierre noted to whom she gave credit—not the American captains but to the Great Physician.
“Three Horses now asks for your help.”
The warrior nodded to the men, then pointed to his ailing wife. Captain Lewis went to her at once. The woman said something to him, but neither Pierre nor the captain could understand.
“She asks for rattlesnake powder,” Claire said. “She asked me for it earlier, but I was afraid to give it to her. She says you gave it to Sacagawea and then her child came.”
He felt her abdomen, then shook his head. “You did right in not administering the powder. It would only have heightened the danger. The child has not yet turned.”
Pierre was hardly an expert in such areas, but even he knew the woman’s condition was grave. “Have you a remedy?” he asked.
Lewis looked doubtful. “I can try.”
“What would you have us do?” Claire asked.
Us, Pierre noted. Oil and water aside, they were a committed team.
“Fetch clean cloths and some sinew,” Lewis ordered.
By now Black Raven was standing in the entryway, his dark eyes wide with fearful curiosity. Spying him, Claire asked him to gather the necessary items. He did so at once, while his nervous father looked on.
Pierre laid his hand upon the man’s shoulder. They were of different blood and culture, but they could each understand what they would suffer if they lost someone for whom they cared.
If that were Claire lying there…
Language could not convey the communication, but the look the man gave him told Pierre he appreciated the gesture of friendship.
“I’ll need you to keep her still,” Lewis said to Claire, and then he looked at Pierre. “Perhaps it would be best if you took the boy and his father outside.”
“Of course.” Pierre looked again to Three Horses, motioned to the door. Claire translated his request, adding a smile of reassurance at the end. It was a token of comfort Pierre was certain even she herself did not feel. Not only was a woman’s life and that of her child in the balance but also the potential faith of a husband and son.
Three Horses might have given pause over the old wives’ claims that the spirits had been angered, but the fact remained that he’d entrusted his wife’s care to the judgment of her friend who worshipped the white man’s God.
Pierre didn’t know who needed prayer more in this moment—the woman in labor, the child, Three Horses, Claire or the captain. Or perhaps us all…the entire expedition…for what will happen if the woman dies? Will the spirit-worshiping midwives blame Claire and Captain Lewis? Would they convince Black Cat and the others to revoke the friendship they had thus far given?
Running Wolf is already inclined against us. If hostilities ensued, what would be the outcome? The river was still covered in ice. There could be no easy retreat.
“We are sixteen hundred miles up the Missouri. No one will come to our aid…”
Pushing aside the disconcerting thoughts, Pierre chose instead to lift a silent prayer while he followed Three Horses and his son outside. Life in the village continued around them as it had previously, although now he heard the district sound of drums. Three Horses immediately frowned and said something that Pierre did not understand.
What did the drums mean? Was trouble brewing? Did the sound come from outside the village or within it?
He thought of informing the captain, but just then a cry came from inside the lodge. He’d once heard Indian women were taught to make no sound when giving birth. If that was true and One Who Smiles was breaking that rule, then she must have a very good reason for doing so. The captain could not be disturbed.
Three Horses turned a worried eye toward the lodge. Pierre tried to distract him. Using signs and his limited Mandan vocabulary, he inquired of the drums. The man offered a disgusted look and answered in a tone much the same. Black Raven translated his father’s remark. He had apparently learned a little French.
“Drums for death,” the boy said.
The hair on the back of Pierre’s neck stood up. “Whose death?”
“My mother. Tribe expect no live.”
That’s the work of the midwives, Pierre supposed. So they had truly given up on the poor woman. Well, he would not, and apparently Three Horses wasn’t about to do so, either. He shook his head adamantly.
“Tell your father that Christ is more powerful than the spirits,” Pierre said. “That He alone holds the keys to life and death.”
Black Raven repeated the words. At first Pierre wasn’t certain if the man understood, but then Three Horses pointed to Pierre, and he pointed to the sky. Next the warrior raised his arms heavenward and lifted his voice in a native cry. It was plaintive but not unnerving. Pierre recognized it for what it was, a man in anguish pouring out his soul to the Creator.
“He pray to this Christ,” Black Raven explained. “Asks you to do same.”
“It would be my honor,” Pierre said.
And there in the midst of the earthen huts and cooking fires, one man danced and called out, the other bowed his head in reverent silence, but Pierre was certain the Savior heard them both just the same.
* * *
Claire cried tears of joy when a writhing, dark-haired baby boy was laid at last upon his mother’s breast. His face was a bit bruised by his prolonged and rather traumatic entry into the world, and his cry was somewhat kitten-like for the moment, but Claire was confident he would gain strength. Overall he appeared healthy.
Though exhausted, One Who Smiles exerted what little of her strength remained to count her infant’s fingers and toes and then whisper her thanks to the captain, to Claire and to God Almighty.
Lewis smiled as he wiped his hands on a piece of cloth. He then looked at Claire. “She’ll need nourishment.”
Claire nodded. “I prepared a broth.”
“Good. Fetch it while I better examine the child.”
Claire moved at once to the fire, gathered a bowl of warm liquid and then returned to her friend.
“Our God is good,” One Who Smiles said.
“Indeed,” Claire replied. “Here, drink this and then I shall tell Three Horses the momentous news…that he now has two sons.”
Tears trickled down One Who Smiles’s face, but Claire knew they were tears of joy. When the broth had been sufficiently drained from the bowl, Claire walked to the door. Bright afternoon sunlight stung her eyes, but the cold air was invigorating. She drew in a deep breath. Never before had she been so scared, or prayed so fervently for assistance, and never before had she felt such joy when God answered her prayer.
A new life has entered this village. Despite the midwives’ dire predictions, my Christian sister has survived. Thank You, God! Thank You!
She was certain she hadn’t been the only one praying. Pierre was doing so, as well.
She found him along the side of the lodge with Three Horses and Black Raven. The men were sitting cross-legged on the snow-packed ground, speaking to one another with signs and limited vocabulary. Her heart leaped at the sight of such obvious friendship and respect.
Black Raven saw her first. He excitedly tapped his father’s knee. Surely he could tell by her expression that all was well. Pierre stood immediately and brushed the snow from his trousers. Three Horses remained seated, but as soon as Claire delivered the news, he jumped to his feet with a shout. What followed then surprised her beyond words.
Three Horses lifted a prayer of thanks, not to his ancestors but to the Creator and sustainer of life. Claire’s jaw dropped when she heard the name of Jesus on the warrior’s lips.
Pierre simply grinned.
Having finished his song of thanks, Three Horses came to her and laid his hands upon her shoulders, just like an elder would do when bestowing a blessing on a younger member of the tribe. “The other women went away,” he said. “but you did not leave my wife. Your God will be my God.”
Tears filled Claire’s eyes, blurring her vision. She had done nothing to convince this man of the truth. She had simply cared for her friend in her time of need, and to think that God had somehow used her to assist the birth of one soul into the world and one soul into His kingdom…it was overwhelming indeed.
“You give me great honor,” she said.
With the smile only a proud father could offer, Three Horses then moved toward the lodge. His oldest son scampered happily beside him.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Pierre said as he came up beside her. “Are we not taught to believe that God answers prayer?”
“Indeed.” She laughed joyfully, heartily. She couldn’t help herself. He did, too.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did. You kept company with Three Horses and Black Raven and you prayed.”
He flushed slightly as if embarrassed by her praise. “It was my privilege.”
Only then did she realize that he had once again shaved his beard and trimmed his curls. He was so handsome. Claire had the sudden desire to let her fingers trace his strong jaw, linger over the cleft of his chin. She didn’t dare do so. Such behavior was unseemly for any maiden, French or Indian.
“What will they name the child?” he asked.
“I do not know. In our culture, children are not given their names until ten days after birth. It is part of an official naming ceremony.”
“I see.” He paused, rubbed his clean-shaven chin.
“You must be cold,” she said.
He chuckled slightly. “I am.”
“Come with me,” she said. “I know where there is a warm fire.” Fearing that the invitation had sounded utterly improper, she quickly explained, “I need to look in on my mother for a moment before I return to assist One Who Smiles further. Will you come with me? She would enjoy your company.” Then she added, “Running Wolf is not here. He has gone hunting and will not be back until the morrow.”
“Well, in that case,” he said. Then, as if he were to escort her across a ballroom floor, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Claire stifled a giggle as she laid hold of his sleeve. She was so happy. She couldn’t resist replying in the same manner. “You are most kind, dear sir.”
With a shared laugh, they tramped through the snow.
* * *
Pierre’s mood changed the moment he entered Claire’s lodge. It wasn’t because he was stepping into the domain without Running Wolf’s permission to do so. He had been invited, and the presence of Little Flower and her children assured propriety. What troubled him was the sight of Evening Sky. Pierre had not seen her for several weeks, and the change in her constitution was deeply disconcerting.
She was lying on her pallet. Her face, arms and legs had withered away, but her abdomen was abnormally large for someone so thin. Her coloring was a sickly shade of pale, enough to tell Pierre that despite persistent prayers, the woman’s time was drawing nigh.
Did Claire not see it? Had the change been so slight each day that she simply failed to notice the signs? Or did she not wish to see them?
Evening Sky welcomed him with a tired but contented smile, like the look of a weary traveler who had at last reached his final destination. Pierre took her frail hand in his, kissed it gently.
Kneeling beside him, Claire excitedly told her mother all that had transpired with One Who Smiles and Three Horses.
“You have done well, Bright Star. God has answered our prayers,” she said. A pale bluish tinge colored her lips. She looked back at Pierre, indicated she wished to take his hand once more. Pierre noted that her fingertips held the same bluish tint.
Her hands were ice-cold, but it wasn’t for lack of heat. Claire had laid another buffalo skin over her mother when she had arrived, and in the center of the lodge, Little Flower stoked a roaring fire. It was so warm that Pierre was perspiring.
“God has brought healing,” Evening Sky said to him.
Pierre’s throat constricted, for he understood the message she was delivering. Bodily healing for her was not to be. She knew that. But she also saw that God was working in matters of the heart. Three Horses and One Who Smiles were the evidence.
“We must remember that,” she said as she gave his hand a feeble squeeze. He recognized the second message. Claire would have trouble accepting that. Her mother wanted him to help her.
Pierre’s throat further tightened, but he managed a dutiful nod. In few words, Evening Sky had said much. She had honored him by giving Pierre this charge. There was much he wanted to say to her, but he kept it back. Claire still apparently failed to grasp what was happening. He sensed Evening Sky wanted it that way. Perhaps it was a tribal custom when approaching death to speak of it as little as possible.
If it was, he must disobey, but he would do so delicately.
Evening Sky told her daughter she should return to Three Horses’s lodge to look after the mother and newborn child. “You are needed there,” she said. “There you can do much good.”
Claire hesitated, but after Evening’s Sky’s gentle insistence, she bent to kiss her mother’s cheek and then stood. Pierre pushed to his feet, as well.
“I think you should stay,” he whispered to Claire in English.
She blinked, looked at her mother, and then looked back at him. He saw the questions in her eyes. Pain pierced his heart, for he knew what was coming for her.
“But mother said…the baby—”
He stopped her with an upturned hand. He knew the newborn and recently delivered mother needed continued care, but despite Evening Sky’s charge, Pierre did not believe Claire was the one to provide it. At least, not right now.
He turned to her cousin. “Will you go to One Who Smiles?” he asked Little Flower in Mandan. “Help mother and child?”
Little Flower looked somewhat surprised, then fearful, but it was no match for the expression that now filled Claire’s face. Her lovely bronzed skin drained white. She knew full well Pierre would not ask her cousin to assist a woman the midwives had shunned were it not absolutely necessary.
“Please,” Pierre said to Little Flower.
The woman looked back at Evening Sky, then Claire. She nodded.
“Thank you,” he said, “and please…tell Captain Lewis where I am.”
She nodded once more. Then, grabbing her buffalo robe, she threw it over her shoulders and hurried outside.
When she had gone, Pierre turned back to Claire. She was standing stone still. The joy of new life was no longer in her eyes. Tears now filled them. One soul had come into the world. Another was about to depart. Such was life out on the frontier.