She climbed out of the carriage, shaking with anger. The audacity of these men to try to force her to walk away from something she believed in. It wasn’t right, and she wasn’t going to stand for their interference.
“Just understand that you have been warned,” Berkshire said, following her out of the carriage. “Samuel Lakewood isn’t a man to suffer fools.”
She stopped and looked at him for a moment. She started to make a snide comment about that not being true, or Berkshire wouldn’t be in his company, but she held her tongue.
“You may tell Mr. Lakewood whatever you deem necessary, but I won’t be bullied. I don’t need his permission, and my friends and I have already changed the venue, so he needn’t fear his dear college’s reputation will be damaged because of our lecture.”
“This is madness, Miss Kenner. Lakewood, once driven to a thing, will not simply drop the matter without making an example of someone. In this case, it will most likely be you who suffers.”
“Then that’s the way I suppose it will be.” She smiled. “I trust that God is able to keep that which I have committed to Him. Mr. Lakewood will merely be a thorn in my flesh. Nothing more. And, as with Paul in the Bible, God’s grace for me shall be sufficient.”
CHAPTER 16
I just wanted you all to be fully aware of the threats against us,” Faith told her gathering of friends.
“Well, we have changed the location of the lecture, and our speaker, Mr. Peabody, has been informed. Mr. Singleton wasn’t able to come after all. We’ve got just two days left, and surely in that time we can persuade Mr. Lakewood to change his mind,” Malcolm declared. “I will go and speak to him myself. Maybe a man-to-man discussion will help him see reason.”
“You are welcome to try, but I have my doubts.” Faith knew enough about Lakewood to know that he wouldn’t allow a group of ragtag students to best him.
After classes that day, Faith handed out flyers downtown and encouraged people to join them for Mr. Peabody’s lecture.
“He is quite knowledgeable about the Pacific Northwest Indians, in particular the Chinook, Alsea, and Haida. He lived and worked with them for over twenty years,” she told a group of men as she thrust a flyer into the closest man’s hands.
“The lecture is also a fundraiser for the Indians at the Grand Ronde Reservation. They suffered greatly from the storm.”
“Pity it didn’t kill them all,” one of the men declared.
Faith frowned. “Would you say such things if our Lord were here to hear you? Because I assure you that He does hear and knows your heart.”
The man looked momentarily embarrassed but did nothing more than shrug. Faith found it discouraging that so many people shared his opinion. At one point, she handed an older woman one of the announcements and was stunned when the woman dropped it to the walkway and ground her foot atop it.
“Filthy heathens killed most of my family. I will never help them.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Faith didn’t know what else to say.
Obviously, some people had been hurt by the Indians and still held a grudge toward them. Even some of those who hadn’t had a personal encounter were so blinded by the hate they’d learned that they were unwilling to consider helping the reservation tribes. History and extravagant tales did the Indians no favors.
Friday night arrived, and Faith held her breath, wondering whether anyone would show up for the lecture. She was grateful that the ladies from the boardinghouse had agreed to come—minus Alma, of course. Seth had rented a large carriage to transport them to the Methodist church, which had agreed to allow Mr. Peabody to speak.
The problem came when, just minutes before the lecture was to begin, Malcolm appeared to declare that Mr. Peabody had cancelled.
Faith knew it was the work of Lakewood and his cronies, but she was determined not to let that ruin the event. There was a nice crowd gathered, and she felt certain they could be convinced to donate to the cause of the reservation Indians.
“I’ll do it myself. I have plenty of experience and can speak to the problems on the reservations. After all, I spent more than one summer helping my aunt and uncle.”
At exactly seven o’clock, Faith took to the podium and smiled out on the audience. “Good evening and thank you for coming. I must tell you that this event was hard to bring together, and at the last minute our speaker, Mr. Peabody, was unable to come. However, I have lived among the Indians and worked on the reservation lands with my aunt and uncle, and I can speak to the problems they face. I might not be as informed in some areas as Mr. Peabody, with his government position, but I can vouch for many of the hardships experienced by the various reservation tribes, so I ask you to bear with me.”
Faith began by speaking of how Grand Ronde came about. “I was living with the Tututni Indians along the Rogue River when the Rogue River Indian wars broke out in 1855. My father was a missionary to the Tututni and some of the other tribes along the river. He was killed by whites who hated the Indians. My mother was expecting a baby and died shortly after that because of her fragile health. My aunt and uncle and I had to escape the village and get to safety. Not because the Indians sought to harm us, but because the whites had declared war on anyone in the villages.” Faith explained the war and the mass killings on both sides.
“In the end, the Southern Oregon tribes were forced to march from their homelands to Grand Ronde. Many died on the two-hundred-sixty-three-mile trip. Some from exposure, some from the arduous journey itself, and still others from disease and starvation. Many of my friends never reached the reservation.”
After detailing the conditions of the journey, Faith then described the poor living conditions at Grand Ronde. Finally, she explained that one of the biggest problems was the forced blending of various tribes.
“I know that many of you consider Indians to be one people, but they aren’t. They consider themselves to be tribal members. Their tribe is an important part of who they are. As I mentioned earlier, when I was a child, I lived among the Tututni people. Outsiders referred to them as the Rogue River Indians, but dozens of tribes lived in the area of the Rogue River, and all were very much individual groups with varying cultures and traditions. It was no different from a city neighborhood that holds Swedish families, as well as Irish, German, and French. All might appear white, but their backgrounds, cultures, and languages are all different. It is the same with the Indian tribes.
“When the government rounded up the various tribes and forced them to the reservations, it was a difficult time for all. The government couldn’t understand why many would rather die than leave their homeland, but surely you can imagine the heartache of being driven from the place you cherished. In the case of the Tututni, they were river people. The river was an important and critical element in their lives. The river was their transportation system, and much of their food came from the river. Their livelihood depended on it. Many of the tribes caught fish and sold them to coastal citizens who owned stores.
“Grand Ronde has river access, but it’s not the same. The weather isn’t the same, the climate and growing seasons aren’t the same. Add to this the fact that more than just the Tututni people were rounded up to live at Grand Ronde. Some of their enemies were there as well. They forced a great many Indians to come together in a small area after they had lived free, wandering the land at will, moving if necessary to hunt or collect food for their families. Now they have become prisoners.”
Faith paused to take a sip of water before continuing. “But today we have come together to speak of other issues. The Storm King left many of you with vast amounts of cleanup. It caused all manner of damage to your houses and felled more trees than can be counted. Grand Ronde and other reservations suffered too. Grand Ronde took a heavy hit. It was in the direct line of the storm system, and the Army Signal Corps told us that the lowest barometric pressure—the center of the storm, if you will—was directly over Grand Ronde as it made its way inland to Portland. This caused the
m to experience some of the heaviest damage, just as we did, and that’s why we’re here today. It is my hope that we can raise enough money to take medical supplies to the people at Grand Ronde so they can receive proper care. Along with medical supplies, we hope to include blankets and common household items—perhaps even lumber to rebuild damaged areas. My aunt and uncle are determined to do whatever they can, and my family has already pledged their assistance, but we need your help as well.”
There were murmurings in the crowd, and Faith waited a moment before continuing. The people seemed completely caught up in her stories of her time with the Indians. Faith felt a sense of pride in being able to speak with some authority about the Tututni and other tribes. By the time she finished and allowed the audience to ask questions, Faith was certain she had done the right thing in speaking in Mr. Peabody’s place. She sensed God with her and His pleasure in her willingness to defend a people so maligned.
“Do the Indian people continue to live as tribes on the reservations, or do they all live mingled together?” an older woman asked.
“Most still work to keep their tribes together, although they live in separate houses. Some of the tribes, however, have very few members left. In fact, there are tribes that have disappeared altogether due to epidemics.”
“And are there still enemy groups after all these years?” a man asked.
“There will always be problems between people, but I’m happy to say that most of the tribes are working together. They see the benefit of coming together. And because of this, they have their own legislature and police force.”
“Isn’t it possible,” the same man asked, “that this will only lead them to join together against the white man?”
Faith considered his question for a moment. “I suppose anything is possible. I know some white people would love nothing more than a war with the Indians—a war that would end the conflict between whites and Indians once and for all by eliminating the Indian tribes completely.”
“If the Indians are inclined to fight against the white man, then why should we help them? Aren’t we in fact only encouraging their animosity?”
Faith hadn’t seen Samuel Lakewood come into the church and join the audience, but there he was.
“No!” Her reply was almost a shout, which caused everyone to look first at her and then at the man who had asked the question. “I believe the Indians are being encouraged to maintain hatred and anger toward white people. I believe a great many people deny them their basic needs, then condemn them when they complain. I believe there are even those white men who would stir up this hornet’s nest in order to have an excuse to kill each and every Indian man, woman, and child. We students, however, suggest that the men in power—the people who have plenty and are able to help—should help. We should come together to recognize that people are people no matter the color of their skin, their language, or their culture. As a doctor, I can tell you that if I operate on a person of color, their insides look no different from those of a white man or woman. We are all human beings made by God’s good hand. He loves the Indian no less than He loves the white man, and any idea that suggests otherwise is wrong. It most assuredly isn’t biblical.”
She paused and calmed her spirit with a quick prayer and a deep breath. She hadn’t expected Lakewood to invade her lecture, and just the sight of him left her feeling off balance.
“Are there other questions?” she forced herself to ask.
There were enough questions from other people that Faith did not have to address Samuel Lakewood again. By the time they concluded the evening and Faith was mingling with the attendees, she was relieved to see that Lakewood had gone. She was thankful she wouldn’t have to discuss anything further with him. At least not for the time being.
“You did an amazing job, Faith,” Malcolm said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’ve raised several hundred dollars. Violet is working on the final count, as there are a few people still writing out their checks.”
“How exciting. I know it will make a big difference on the reservation. Hopefully hearts have been changed and people will come to see that the Indians are just as human as the white man.”
“I think this will definitely help. I’ll get right to work on securing us additional speakers. I don’t know why Mr. Peabody was unable to come, but hopefully we can acquire some new lecturers.”
Faith felt encouraged. “I wrote to Mr. Singleton, who works with my uncle at the reservation, as well as Mrs. Jackson. I know we could fill the entire church with people if she were to come speak to us.”
“No doubt. That would be quite the thing if you were able to talk her into coming here.” Malcolm tugged at his navy blue coat. “I feel like celebrating. Why don’t we all plan to meet at Brickerson’s? I know they’re open until ten tonight.”
“I can’t.” Faith glanced over to where Nancy and Seth stood talking with several people. “My family expects me to return with them. Maybe we can celebrate another time.”
A man approached her. “Miss Kenner, I’m with The Oregonian and wondered if you would answer a few questions for an article I plan to write regarding your purpose here tonight.” He was stocky in build and several inches shorter than Faith.
She smiled and nodded. “I will be happy to answer your questions, Mr. . . .”
“Stanley. Robert Stanley.” He stuck out his hand.
Faith nodded. “Mr. Stanley. What questions do you have?”
“Isn’t it true that your mother and her sisters were a part of the Whitman Massacre of November 1847?”
Faith hadn’t expected this and couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. She forced her composure to return. “I . . . well, I suppose I wasn’t expecting that question.” She looked at Malcolm and shrugged. “But yes. My mother and her younger sister were taken hostage during the massacre. Their elder sister was away from the mission at the time and escaped harm.”
“So your aunt and mother did not escape harm. What exactly happened to them?”
Faith had no intention of betraying her mother’s situation during that time period. “Mr. Stanley, I am curious as to why you are asking these questions. We are seeking to join hearts and minds together, not remind people of past hostilities.”
“Be that as it may, the thirty-year anniversary of the trial of the Cayuse warriors who were responsible is this year, and the newspaper intends to do a series of articles on what happened and how that affected the community. That, coupled with your family’s desire to help the Indians now, is rather fascinating, don’t you think? I believe readers will want to know more about this and better understand why women who were held captive and forced to endure God only knows what would now desire to help their captors.”
“While I believe the love of God is what compels my mother and aunt to help those who did them wrong, I hardly see this as a time to bring up the ugliness of the past. I would prefer you write nothing about us. We want to put aside those bitter events and focus instead on how we might all live together in peace and harmony.”
“Peace and harmony don’t sell papers,” he replied, grinning. “Now, will you tell me what you know about the attack?”
Faith looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. “No, Mr. Stanley. I won’t.”
The final tally showed that they had raised three hundred and eighty-six dollars to aid the Indians. Faith was pleased with the amount and immediately penned a letter to her aunt Mercy. In it, she asked for a list of anything and everything that was most needed. She also asked what particular illnesses were most prevalent at the moment. The college gave medication to the poor on occasion, and Faith had suggested Malcolm speak to President Parrish about whether the college might donate some for the reservation. Otherwise, she was going to speak to Andrew about where they might be able to secure medication and blankets at a wholesale price.
By the time Monday rolled around and Faith headed off to school, she was all but floating on air. Many people had spoken to her at church, promisi
ng to add to the funds, while others were hoping Faith would again lecture and speak of her time with the Tututni in even more detail.
She thought about her life on the Rogue River as she walked to the trolley stop. Every day the cleanup and restoration brought life a little closer to the way it had been before the storm, but it would still be a long while before the residential neighborhoods got much attention. Downtown and its businesses were of the utmost importance, and the massive number of downed trees still commanded everyone’s focus.
When she finally reached the trolley stop, Faith could hardly feel her toes for the cold. She was grateful that her wait was less than five minutes and even happier when they made it to the college in record time.
“The president is looking for you,” Malcolm said as she made her way to the table where they usually gathered before lectures.
“Did he say why?” Faith pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her coat pockets.
“No, just that you were to come see him first thing before classes.”
Faith nodded. “Maybe he heard about our success and is willing to let us host the lectures here. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She hoisted her satchel on her shoulder. “Take notes for me if I don’t get to class before the lecture starts.”
“I will.”
Faith made her way to President Parrish’s office. She smiled at the secretary. “I’m Faith Kenner.”
“Yes, I know that,” the man answered, seeming rather irritated by the interruption. “Take a seat, and I’ll let Mr. Parrish know you’re here.”
Faith did as he instructed and began unbuttoning her coat. Everything seemed to be so rushed this morning. She hoped it wasn’t the way the entire day would go. She glanced at a copy of The Oregonian newspaper on the reception table and noticed her name.
The Way of Love Page 16