Woman of Courage (11 page)

“I understand that,” Buck said. “I’ll have to think about it, though.” Truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with the white woman.

When Buck and Jim went inside, Mary greeted them at the door. “Good see you,” she said, smiling at Buck.

“It’s good seeing you, too, Mary.”

“You want coffee? It ready on stove.”

“Maybe after a while, if that’s okay,” he said, even though the thought of a hot cup of coffee was inviting. “I’d like to speak with the white woman first. Jim said she’s awake.”

Mary nodded. “Come see.”

Buck followed Mary into the other room, while Jim remained in the kitchen. He found the woman lying on the bed, her eyes open. Even in the dim lantern light, he could see that she looked pale and weak.

“This Buck,” Mary said. “He find you; then bring here.” She looked at Buck and motioned to the woman. “This A-man-da.”

Amanda smiled slightly. “I want to thank thee for finding me and bringing me here. I am not well yet, but I’m doing better. Mary has taken good care of me.”

Buck gave a nod. “Jim said your pap and your guide are both dead.”

Amanda nodded slowly. “Papa and I were on our way to the Spalding Mission to help teach the Nez Percé Indians about God.” She paused and drew in a shallow breath. “If thou knowest of the area, wouldst thou be willing to take me there?”

Buck shook his head vigorously. “I’ll take ya to the nearest fort when you’re well enough, but I ain’t goin’ into the Nez Percé winter homeland!”

W
hen Buck left Jim’s cabin later that day, his mind whirled with unanswered questions. Had he said no to Amanda’s request to take her to the mission because he didn’t want to be reminded of his mother’s people and where he’d come from, or did it have more to do with the fact that Amanda was a Bible thumper? It didn’t matter. Either way, he wasn’t going to act as her guide. He might consider taking her to the fort, but that was all. Maybe she could find someone there who’d be willing to take her where she wanted to go—someone who had no ties to the Nez Percé people.

Buck had never admitted this to anyone, but he blamed his mother’s people for letting her marry Jeremiah McFadden. If she had married one of her own and stayed with her tribe, there would have been less chance of her being taken captive by the Blackfeet.

Of course
, Buck reasoned,
Mary Yellow Bird was stolen from her tribe—right out from under her parents. Well, the past is in the past, and nothin’ can be changed
. Buck had no desire to visit the Spalding Mission. He’d heard about the missionaries who were trying to teach the Nez Percé how to live like the whites and worship their God. None of that seemed right to him.

Buck often wondered how things would have been for him, as well as his mother, if his white father hadn’t been killed. Would Jeremiah have taught Buck all of the things he’d learned from Jim? Probably so, since Buck’s mother had mentioned that Buck’s father was a trapper, too. His father had died before Buck was born. But he knew from the things his mother had told him that she’d loved her husband.

Engulfed in the solitude around him, Buck gave his horse the freedom to run. As they raced through the woods toward his cabin, Buck enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face, and the power of the steed he sat upon. Both horse and rider were meshed together, in tune with the other’s movements. It was at times like this that Buck could forget about the bitterness in his soul, become one with nature, and hold close to his heart that which had been untouched by mankind.

In the sky above, which no man could destroy, Buck’s red-tailed hawk soared high in broad circles. His raspy,
kree-eee-ar
, was mingled with another’s, when a second raptor circled just below him.

“Ah, my winged brother, I see you have a friend—possibly a mate.” Slowing his horse, Buck smiled, watching in awe as the two hawks ascended. He wondered if someday he’d have a wife and perhaps a child of his own—maybe a son to teach all the good things about living here in the Rockies. Part of Buck wanted to get married and raise a family, but another part said he was better off being free. Free like the birds, who could go anywhere, whenever they wanted.

“Something smells good in here,” Amanda said when she made her way to the kitchen and found Mary stirring something in a big black pot on the woodstove. Her legs were still wobbly, but the pleasant aroma drew her to the table.

Mary turned, offering Amanda a smile. “You hungry?”

Amanda nodded, her stomach growling noisily as she leaned on a wooden chair for support.

“That good sign. You eat. Gain strength back.” Mary added some salt to the pot. “When stew is done, we eat.” She motioned to the chair that supported Amanda. “I cook. You sit and rest.”

Amanda did as Mary said. She would have offered to help, but knew she wasn’t up to doing anything more than sitting. Her hands shook as she tried to smooth the wrinkles from her dress, which Mary had found in Amanda’s valise and apparently washed for her. The effort to walk from the bed to the table had stolen all of Amanda’s strength, but the need to get out of bed and talk with another person was more powerful than her own weakness. Besides, she was tired of being sick and useless.

“Is there anything I might do to help thee?” Amanda questioned, feeling the need to ask at least.

“You rest. Just nice to talk with another woman,” Mary said.

“How long have you lived here with Jim?” Amanda asked, anxious to know more about Mary.

“Many moons. He say one year,” Mary replied, continuing to stir the pot of stew.

“What Indian tribe do you come from?”

“Ni-mii-pu.”

“Oh, you’re part of the Nez Percé?”

Mary nodded.

“I’m curious,” Amanda said. “How did you come to marry a white man?”

Mary didn’t say anything at first, but then she took a seat at the table across from Amanda. “Me stolen from my people by Blackfeet.”

Amanda gasped, thinking of the Blackfoot Indians who’d come into her and Harvey’s campsite. She had heard tales about captives who had escaped and the hardships they’d endured while being held. Other captives, both men and women, had ended up being part of the tribes who stole them. Years after, when they’d had chances to escape or be rescued, the captives chose to stay, enjoying life as an Indian instead of returning to the white community they’d been born into. Amanda could have easily been taken captive, but God had spared her.

“Did Jim rescue you from the Blackfeet?” she asked.

Mary shook her head, her dark eyes looking ever so serious. “Smoking Buffalo trade me to Jim.”

“He … he traded you?” Amanda could hardly fathom such a thing.

“Traded for blankets and gun,” Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone, as though it was perfectly normal for a man to do so.

Amanda wondered if it was a common occurrence for Indians to trade people for things. If so, they really did need to know about God and learn of His ways.

“So did you and Jim get married?” Amanda dared to ask.

Mary nodded. “He marry me at fort in white-man ceremony. White preacher say the words over us.”

“I see.” Amanda couldn’t help wondering if Mary was happy being Jim’s wife. Maybe the reason she’d seen no warmth or tenderness between them was because Mary had been forced to leave her people and hadn’t chosen him to be her husband. Jim seemed angry when he spoke to Mary, as if he felt no love for her at all. But if he felt that way, then why had he married her?

Amanda thought about how difficult it must have been for Mary to be taken from her people and end up getting traded to a white man. Amanda was not the only one who had suffered a great loss. Mary had obviously been through much grief, yet she seemed to have accepted her lot in life and was making the best of things.

Amanda looked at Mary with even more respect, for this woman who’d been taken from her family and her heritage had great courage to have made it this far. Amanda hoped she could be just as brave in her venture to the Spalding Mission.

“Can I ask you something else?” Amanda said.

Mary gave a quick nod.

“I’ve been wondering about the young man Buck. Do you know why he’s not willing to take me to the mission?”

The cabin door opened and Jim entered the room. “I’m hungry as a grizzly bear and need somethin’ to eat!”

Mary stood and ambled back to the stove. “Where Thunder?” she asked.

Jim wrinkled his nose. “He tangled with a skunk awhile ago, so he’ll be stayin’ outside till the stink wears off.” He turned to face Amanda, barely making eye contact. “I see you’re up. Does that mean you’re feelin’ better?”

“Yes, some,” she replied, “but I am still very weak.”

“Need more rest,” Mary said, glancing over her shoulder as she stirred the pot of stew. “Need eat and gain back strength.”

Amanda’s stomach rumbled just thinking about food. She had to admit she was quite hungry.

Mary took a tin plate from the wooden cupboard, filled it with steaming stew, and set it on the table in front of Amanda. “You eat. Good stew.”

“What about me?” Jim growled. “Don’t I get anything to eat?”

Mary bobbed her head. “Yes, Husband. There plenty of stew for you.” She filled another plate and gave it to Jim, then fixed one for herself and took a seat.

As they sat around the table, Amanda asked if they would mind if she said a prayer.

Jim shook his head vigorously. “You can pray in your head if you’ve a mind to, but nobody prays out loud at my table!”

Amanda cringed. Did everything she said make this man angry? Why would he object to her saying a prayer?

“What is pray-er?” Mary asked.

“It’s talking to God … saying thanks for the food and all that He’s done,” Amanda explained.

“Who is God?” Mary asked.

“He created the world and all of mankind,” Amanda replied.

Mary’s brow furrowed as deep wrinkles formed across her forehead. “Hanyawat, the Great Spirit. He made everything.”

Amanda looked at Jim, hoping he would say something, but he grunted and began eating his stew.

Amanda wondered about the Great Spirit. Could the Indians be worshiping the same God as she and not even realize it? Perhaps He was the same God called by a different name. There were so many things she didn’t know about these red-skinned people. Perhaps the fact that she’d ended up here in this cabin with a Nez Percé Indian had been God’s plan so that she could learn more about the Nez Percé and their ways. This would help her when she got to the Spalding Mission. Of course, she had to find a way to get there first. In the meanwhile, for whatever time she remained in Jim’s cabin, she would learn all she could from Mary. Perhaps in the process, she could teach the young Indian woman about the one true God.

A
manda yawned and stretched as she crawled out of bed. She hadn’t slept well last night, having had several bad dreams. But at least she felt a bit stronger now, with no sign of a fever. Mary’s good cooking had given her body new strength, and each new day she was able to do a little more.

Amanda had spent the last week resting, eating, and sitting outside in the fresh air as she got better acquainted with Mary. She’d learned that before the young woman’s capture by the Blackfeet, she’d planned to marry a Nez Percé Indian brave named Gray Eagle. Tears had welled in Mary’s eyes as she’d told how Gray Eagle had tried to rescue her and been shot and killed with an arrow before the Blackfeet left their camp and moved on to another. Mary’s story had been interrupted when Jim came home with two rabbits he’d asked Mary to clean. However, Amanda hoped that sometime later today she would have the chance to visit with Mary some more. Though sad, the young woman’s story was quite interesting, making Amanda yearn to learn even more.

Buck had come by twice to see how Amanda was doing, but he never mentioned taking her anywhere, not even to the fort. She said nothing about it but hoped by the time she was well enough to travel he would reconsider and act as her guide. He seemed like a nice man, though whenever he looked at her, she detected wariness in his eyes.

Amanda had asked Mary about Buck’s dark skin, as it didn’t go with his shoulder-length red hair, which he wore pulled back and tied with a thin piece of leather. Mary had explained what she knew of Buck’s story and his friendship with Jim.

Dismissing her thoughts, Amanda got dressed and splashed water on her face from the bowl on the rustic wooden dresser in the small room where she slept. She wondered if Jim had built the simple piece of furniture. Feeling a sudden chill, she opened one of the drawers to look for her woolen shawl, since Mary had said she’d put all her things in there. Sure enough, there were her other dresses and underclothes, although wrinkled, along with her and Papa’s Bibles. Seeing no sign of the shawl, Amanda opened the second drawer, where she found her shawl, as well as another Bible. Wondering whom it belonged to, she lifted it out of the drawer and carried it over to the bed. Taking a seat, she opened it to the first page, where she saw an inscription. “To our daughter, Lois, and her husband, James, on their wedding day,” she read aloud.