Woman of Courage Read online

  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 the
re 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.

  CHAPTER 13

  Amanda 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.

  Amanda’s lips compressed. So Jim must have been married before. I wonder what happened to his wife. It seems strange that they had a Bible yet he wouldn’t let me pray out loud at the table.

  Clutching the Bible, Amanda rose to her feet. She hoped Jim hadn’t left yet, because she wanted to speak with him about this.

  Jim had just taken a seat at the table to have one last cup of coffee before heading out to check on his traps, when Amanda emerged from the bedroom, holding a Bible. He didn’t recognize it at first, not until she placed it on the table in front of him and opened it to the first page where his and Lois’s names had been written.

  “Where’d ya get that?” he shouted, his face heating.

  “I-I found it one of the dresser drawers,” Amanda stammered.

  “Well, ya shouldn’t be snoopin’ around where ya don’t belong!”

  “Me put her clothes in there,” Mary quickly interjected.

  Jim glared at her. “Nobody asked you!”

  “It’s true,” Amanda said, coming to Mary’s defense. “My clothes were in the drawer, and when I was looking for a shawl to wear I stumbled upon the Bible.”

  Struggling with his emotions, Jim snatched up the Bible. It was all he had left to remind him of Lois, yet he could barely stand looking at it. Lois had been religious, but where had that gotten her? Nowhere but an early grave!

  Because of Lois and her strong religious beliefs, Jim had gotten to know God better, and had wholeheartedly thanked the good Lord every day for bringing Lois into his life. Now God was a stranger to him. All those prayers of thanks had fallen on deaf ears, when this so-called God allowed Lois’s life to slowly drain away to nothing. Lois had told Jim once that when a person died and went to heaven, their soul lived on. Jim hoped that was the case for his precious wife, but he felt as if his own soul no longer existed.

  Jim pushed back his chair so quickly that it toppled over. Then he stormed across the room, opened the stove, and tossed the Bible in. Barely hearing the women gasp, he stood watching as the flames consumed the book, but it did nothing to soften the anger he felt toward God. Slamming the stove door shut, he turned to Mary and said, “I’m goin’ out to set some traps, and I won’t be back till dark. Make sure you have my supper ready.” He grabbed up his things and went out the door, letting it bang shut behind him.

  Amanda couldn’t believe how upset Jim had become when he’d seen his first wife’s Bible. And throwing it into the fire—well, that was incomprehensible! What in the world had the man been thinking? Didn’t he know or even care that God’s Word was holy?

  Amanda glanced at Mary, who sat at the table with a pinched expression. The way Jim talked to his wife was terrible, yet Mary never objected. Why, it wasn’t a marriage at all. Mary was nothing more than a slave to that man!

  “Jim angry,” Mary said. “He blame himself for death of first wife.”

  Amanda’s mouth dropped open. “Did he tell you that?”

  Mary shook her head. “Just know. I see on his face.” She winced and placed one hand on her stomach.

  “What is it, Mary?” Amanda asked with concern. “Is your baby kicking?”

  “No kick,” Mary said. “Baby coming soon.”

  “Yes, in a few more weeks, right?”

  “No.” Mary rose from her chair. “Pains have started. Baby come today.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened. “You can’t have the baby today. It’s too soon, and Jim’s not here.”

  Mary began pacing, while rubbing her lower back.

  A sense of apprehension crept up Amanda’s spine. She’d never helped bring a child into the world or even witnessed the birth of a baby, and she wasn’t prepared to do it now. Maybe Mary was wrong. She might not be in labor at all. Amanda hoped that was the case, because there was no way she could help Mary deliver her baby!

  CHAPTER 14

  No worry, Amanda,” Mary Yellow Bird said, seeing Amanda’s fearful expression. “Baby will come when ready.”

  “But I don’t know what to do.” Amanda’s voice quivered.

  “Do nothing now.” Mary touched her chest. “Me birth baby.” Having grown up with nature’s ways and the knowledge of herbs, she was fully prepared to deliver her own child. She wished, however, that she was at home with her people, where their medicine woman would be on hand in case there was any trouble. But so far, her labor seemed to be progressing normally, so this helped her feel more confident.

  “Are you sure you won’t need my help?” Amanda asked, her forehead etched with wrinkles.

  “I let you know when.” Mary continued to pace, and every once in a while she stopped to take a drink of the birthing tea she had concocted earlier that morning when the pains first began.

  Amanda sat at the table, with hands folded and head bowed, like she did when she prayed silently before a meal. Mary didn’t think she needed the white woman’s prayer, but she guessed it couldn’t hurt. In the meantime, Mary sent up her own prayers to Hanyawat, asking that her guardian spirit would protect her and the child and offer a speedy delivery, without complications.

  When the pains came closer, Mary reminded herself not to fight them. She remembered her mother telling other expectant women in their tribe to flow with the pain, just as a leaf falls slowly from a tree.

  Another pain, sharper than the last, came and went. Beads of perspiration gathered on Mary’s forehead, and she hurriedly greased her loins with bear grease she kept in a can. Then, moving over to be closer to the warmth
of the fire, she squatted down.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” Amanda called, jumping to her feet.

  “It best if I sit on haunches. Need clean rags, water, and herb tea on stove,” Mary said between ragged breaths.

  “I will get them.”

  As she had been taught, Mary concentrated fully on bringing this new life into the world. Despite the sharp pains, she remained calm and composed.

  Amanda dipped a piece of cloth into the bucket of water she’d brought over and wiped Mary’s damp forehead. When the next contraction subsided, Amanda offered her a drink of tea. She sipped it appreciatively, knowing the birthing tea would get things moving quicker.

  “Tell me what else to do,” Amanda said in a panicked tone.

  “Sit on floor behind me,” Mary instructed. “I lean on you.”

  Amanda did as Mary requested, and as Mary took deep breaths, she was able to relax against Amanda’s chest between contractions.

  When she knew the time was right, Mary began to push. “Head coming now,” she said, excitedly. As Mary gave one final push, the baby slipped from her womb and into her outstretched hands. “It’s a boy!” she cried, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  A few seconds later, a loud cry filled the room. Mary breathed a sigh of relief, knowing her son was alive. “Thank you, Hanyawat,” she whispered in awe. Lowering herself the rest of the way to the floor, she said to Amanda. “Bring knife.”

  Amanda’s face paled. “A knife? Why would you need a knife?”

  “Cut cord,” Mary replied.

  “Oh, I see.”

  Once the cord was cut, Mary washed her son gently with a wet, clean rag. Then she wrapped the infant in a small blanket she’d made and handed him to Amanda.

  Amanda looked at her quizzically.

  “Hold baby while I clean up.”

  Amanda took the child and sat in the hickory rocker near the fire while Mary tended to her own needs.