They stepped between the last row of portable dwellings into a large circular area. The grass had been cleared and a fire pit dug in the center. On the far side stood a house that was longer and much sturdier looking than the rest, though still constructed of the same split cedar.
Apparently alerted by the sound of their approach, four men exited the narrow opening. These wore loose garments dangling around their waists, but little else. Their bodies were smeared with an oil of some kind, though from the smell it had long since gone rancid. When four pairs of intense dark eyes fixed on her and Louisa, Evie had another reason to be thankful for her long skirts. They hid the trembling of her legs.
Noah raised his voice and directed words she did not understand toward the empty doorway. A fifth person emerged from the dwelling. Without a doubt, here was Chief Seattle. An atmosphere of power emanated from this man. Hair fell to his shoulders from a part in the center of his scalp. Heavy brows covered prominent ridges above black eyes that sparked with intelligence. When those eyes turned her way, Evie’s trembling ceased, not because she was no longer afraid, but because of a surge of paralysis that overtook her. Never had she seen such perception in a gaze, and she experienced an irrational fear that this man could read her thoughts simply by looking at her.
When he appeared, Miles surged forward from behind and approached the chief with the manner of one greeting an old friend.
“Chief Seattle, hello.” He came forward to greet the chief with an outstretched hand. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me again so soon.”
Evie held her breath, sure that the chieftain would reject the familiarity. To her chagrin, he took the proffered hand in his, and gave it a firm shake. When he released it, he turned an expectant gaze on Noah.
A conversation followed that Evie found entirely impossible to follow. Not only because of the nonsensical words—hesitant on Noah’s part, but flowing from the chief’s tongue—but because she felt the increasing weight of the Indians’ stares on her. Noah held the poles aloft, and, with a gesture in her direction, set them on the ground. With a long look at her, during which Evie’s head went light from the effort of trying to appear unconcerned, Chief Seattle replied with a single nod. Was it her imagination, or did one of the stern-faced braves look disappointed?
Noah turned a smile her way. “I’ve explained that, though the newly arrived women are flattered by the offer, you prefer to accustom yourselves to the area before considering taking a mate. He has accepted the explanation.”
That was true enough, at least by Evie’s way of thinking. “Now ask him about the supplies.”
Noah scowled at her impatience. “I’m getting to that.”
Once again he faced the chief and resumed the conversation. Though Louisa appeared outwardly calm, she shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and kept a firm grip on Evie’s arm. At times Noah appeared to have trouble expressing himself, and communicated with hand gestures.
Louisa leaned close and whispered, “David should have come. He has nearly mastered their language.”
Finally, after the chief called forward two of the half-clothed braves and conferred with them, the conversation drew to an end. He pulled in a long breath, extended his neck and opened his mouth. The bellow he emitted rang throughout the village, and struck terror straight through to Evie’s heart. Louisa jumped, and began such a violent trembling that Evie thought she might faint. They clung to each other.
The area around them erupted with activity. People appeared from all directions, men and women, children and youth. Even a pack of dogs emerged from the forest and ran to join the gathering all around them.
The chief leveled a stern look on the assembled. He spoke several sentences in a harsh tone, his voice easily carrying to the distant edges of the crowd. When he finished, a good number of his people scurried away and returned a few moments later carrying familiar-looking burdens. Evie’s restaurant supplies had returned, most of them still nestled securely in their unopened crates.
The crates and bundles were piled in front of Chief Seattle. As each person placed his burden with the others, he or she scurried away, avoiding the gaze of their leader. Evie watched, torn between desires to conduct an inventory and to shrink away after the culprits.
“My goodness,” whispered Louisa in her ear. “You brought half of San Francisco with you.”
When the last of the crates had been deposited, Chief Seattle folded his arms across his chest and spoke a single sentence to Miles.
Noah, who had stood watching the procedures with no expression, translated. “He apologizes for the actions of his people, and assures you that your belongings will be safe in the future.”
Evie might have been offended that the man spoke to her partner, except for the fact that, while Noah translated, the chief’s eyes rested on her. She was struck once again with the certainty that this man understood far more keenly than anyone knew. He may have chosen not to speak English, but she would not make the mistake of thinking him ignorant of the white settlers’ language, or their activities.
In answer, she held his eyes while she nodded, and then lowered her head respectfully.
“As I thought,” Miles was saying, “this was nothing more than a misunderstanding. I, ah, hope this won’t have a negative effect on our agreement about the barrels and salmon?”
Noah shot him a warning glance, but then translated in his halting, broken manner. Chief Seattle answered, and Noah turned to his uncle.
“He says you are a fool, but a deal’s a deal.”
Miles looked startled and Evie and Louisa both joined Noah in a laugh. Even the chief’s lips curved into a smile, further proof that he understood more of the conversation than anyone gave him credit for.
Noah faced her. Was it her imagination, or was that relief that lightened his features?
“He promises that these items will be returned to the landing site before the sun sets. I think we can trust him on that.” He lowered his voice. “Are you satisfied with this arrangement, Evangeline?”
Evie experienced a surprising rush of warmth for the man she had come to think of as her primary tormenter. Though he had complained all the way, he had left his work behind in order to solve her problem. She awarded him a warm smile. “I am well satisfied.” Then, in a spirit of shared accomplishment, added, “And you may call me Evie.”
She didn’t have time to react to his startled look, because at that moment she spied the item for which she had traveled to the landing site in the first place.
“My tea!” Rushing forward, she knelt before the crate. The top had been pried off and one of the burlap sacks inside opened. Apparently someone had helped themselves to her tea supply. No matter. The majority of it was still here.
An Indian woman stepped forward to stand next to her. Evie straightened and looked into her face as the woman said something she didn’t understand, her expression earnest.
Laughing openly, Noah came to their side. “She says you should know that those tobacco leaves have spoiled. The taste was so foul they had to throw away their pipes and carve new ones.”
Evie blinked at him. “They smoked my tea?”
The ridiculousness of the situation overtook her, and she too began to laugh. Proving her earlier suspicions about Chief Seattle’s understanding of English, he joined her in laughter and without any further translation, spoke to his people. He brought a hand up to his face and imitated lifting a teacup to his mouth. Many of the tribe began to laugh, including the woman standing beside Evie. She covered her face with both hands, good-naturedly admitting her mistake.
In a gesture of camaraderie, Evie took the opened sack from the crate and thrust it into the woman’s hands.
“Try pouring hot water over the tea and drinking it,” she said, using the same motion as Chief Seattle. “I think you’ll like it much better that way.” The woman clutched the bag, smiling and nodding her thanks as she backed away.
When she tu
rned back to her friends, she found Noah’s gaze fixed on her. Was it her imagination, or did she see approval in his eyes? A rush of warmth flooded her, and her spirits soared higher than they had been since that fateful meeting in San Francisco.
Ten
The morning following her visit to the Duwamish camp, Evie awoke before sunrise. Moving quietly, she donned an old dress and slipped outside to greet the day. The air held the chill of night, but no clouds appeared in the predawn sky. Today promised to be as glorious as yesterday. She would take that as a sign of the Lord’s blessing on her plans. They would have clear weather for their first day of work on the land that held so many of her hopes for the future.
Dawn broke with streaks of pink and purple in the eastern sky. The sight was so glorious that she stood for a long moment, drinking in the vistas of morning’s first blush. A movement at the edge of the glade drew her attention. An animal. For one second, her heart leaped into her chest. Was it a cougar? Or perhaps a bear? In the next instant she recognized the shape, and her pulse calmed. A deer stepped out of the shadow of the trees. It stopped, its antlered head high and ears pricked to attention, alert to signs of danger. What a beautiful creature. Not daring to move, Evie held her breath. The deer seemed not to notice her presence and moved with slow, timid steps toward the stream. It drank quickly, muscles tensed and ready to dash to safety at the first sign of danger.
Only when the animal had disappeared inside the cover of the trees did Evie release her breath. Another sign. Yes, this would be a good day indeed.
When she entered the cabin, she found Mary stirring up the fire in the stove. “Good morning,” she whispered.
Evie replied with a smile and stepped as quietly as possible around the cots where the other ladies still slept. She peeked behind the partition where baby Rolland lay in his parents’ bed, his legs tucked beneath him and his diapered behind in the air. As she watched, he heaved a sigh and his lips moved in a sucking motion. Since she’d had no brothers or sisters, Evie hadn’t had much opportunity to be around babies, either growing up or as an adult. Were they all as sweet and peaceful as Rolland?
The fire ready, Mary put water on the stove and measured tea from Evie’s store into the teapot. Then she began pulling wrapped parcels off the shelves and placing them in a bag.
“Lunch,” she explained quietly, and then gave Evie a shrewd glance. “If I understand correctly, you won’t be journeying up to the cookhouse for a midday meal.”
Though Evie had not specifically said so, Mary was perceptive enough to know that she preferred to keep her plans from the men, at least for now.
“We don’t want to disrupt their work.” A noble sentiment and at least partially true. The other half of the reason was that Evie didn’t want the men, and particularly Noah, disrupting her work, or perhaps even putting a halt to it.
Though they spoke in hushed voices, the others began to stir and soon the entire cabin was awake. Over a breakfast of bread and porridge, Evie outlined her plans for the day.
“Miles is to meet us at the clearing with axes and saws and the other tools we’ll need. Wear your oldest and dingiest dress, something you don’t mind dirtying.”
Sarah answered in a petulant tone, “I have no dingy dresses.”
“You will before the day is over,” Evie answered as she spread soft cheese on a piece of toasted bread.
Ethel, who had displayed more enthusiasm for the project than Evie would have thought possible, grinned over the table. “All of mine are old and dingy.”
From her place near the stove, little Margaret piped up. “I have a dingy skirt. It even has a hole in the pocket.” She looked hopefully at her mother. When Mary shook her head, the child drooped on her stool.
Evie turned a smile on her. “When you are older, you may come and help me in the restaurant if your papa says it’s all right.”
“I’m the eldest.” Seven-year-old Louisa Catherine, seated next to her sister, clearly did not want to be left out of something fun like helping in a restaurant. “May I come too?”
Her eager expression, so like her mother’s, made Evie laugh. “Of course you can.”
When breakfast was over and the dishes rinsed in the stream, the ladies set out. They got an earlier start than Evie expected, and her mood was light. She carried the lunch bag by a strap over her shoulder and, with Louisa at her side, took the lead. The sisters followed and Ethel brought up the rear.
They’d barely stepped onto the trail when a loud clang-clang-clang pierced the air.
What in heaven’s name?
Evie skidded to a halt and whirled around to find Ethel holding a spoon and a metal plate. “What are you doing?”
Ethel looked surprised that she had to explain. “I’m making a noise to frighten away the wild beasts, of course.”
To demonstrate, she raised the plate above her head and beat another tattoo with the spoon. Wincing, Lucy covered her ears.
Sarah planted her hands on her hips. “What if they mistake that noise for a dinner bell?”
Ethel extended her neck and shouted in a voice that carried to the tops of the trees. “That’s why we should talk loudly too.”
Lucy dropped her hands from her ears and turned a pleading look on Evie. “Do we have to listen to that the whole way?”
A stubborn expression settled on Ethel’s features. “I came to Oregon Territory to find a husband, not get eaten by bears.” She aimed her voice at the sky and emitted a piercing cry. “Whoop! Whoop!”
Louisa erupted into peals of laughter. “That racket would certainly scare me off if I were a bear.”
The deer Evie saw that morning had been attuned to any sound that might indicate danger. Loud voices or a metallic clamor would certainly have sent him scurrying away. Perhaps cougars and bears and coyotes were equally cautious.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it makes as much sense as anything.”
They continued their trek down the now-familiar trail to the accompaniment of Ethel’s clanging spoon. Every time she shouted, “Whoop! Whoop!” Louisa laughed in her infectious way, and before long they were all chuckling and giggling as they walked. At least the time went quickly and they saw no sign of animals, ferocious or otherwise.
The afternoon temperatures rose higher than any since the Denny party first arrived at this camp. After lunch Noah joined the other men in peeling off his flannel shirt and working in his shirtsleeves. Around midday he stowed his ax with the rest of his tools and grabbed the cheat stick. In most logging camps the ink slinger might serve as a scaler also, splitting his time between record keeping and maintaining an accurate tally of the board feet of lumber the men produced. Rarely did the scaler or ink slinger pick up an ax and work as a lumberjack but on this job, with time pressing down on them, every man was needed logging.
An hour later he finished his measurements and sat down on a stump to do the calculations. Head bent over his ledger, he was so intent on his work that he didn’t notice Arthur’s presence until the sound of boots on ground alerted him. He looked up to find the boss peeling off his work gloves and watching him intently.
“Well?” Arthur’s expression was almost fearful. “How are we doing?”
Noah shook his head. “It’s going to be close. Our production’s slowed down in the past few days.”
He didn’t finish the sentence, and a look at Arthur’s face told him he didn’t have to. Production had slowed since the ladies arrived. Not their physical presence, necessarily, though they obviously created a ruckus whenever they showed up at the cutting site. But even when they were out of view, the men worked slower and produced less than before.
“Hmm.” Arthur slapped a glove against his thigh. “We’ve got to push harder. I hate to do it, but we might have to break out the suns.”
Noah frowned. The suns were torches used for night work. “The men won’t like that.”
“I don’t like it either.” He shook his head. “Maybe if we tell them we’re con
sidering working at night, we won’t need to.”
If the threat of working nights would kick the loggers into motion, it was worth putting up with any amount of grumbling. But extra hours meant extra pay, something Noah knew Arthur would like to avoid if he could.
Truth be told, Noah couldn’t place all the blame on the men’s lack of motivation, or even on Evie and the others. “One thing that’s slowing us down is we’re getting farther away from Elliott Bay. It takes longer to haul logs to the skidway, and that ties up the bullwhackers’ time when they could be logging.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing myself.” Arthur’s eyes scanned the area. “Maybe we ought to leave this cutting for later in the year and head back down toward the cutover where we started. The skid trail is shorter there and there’s still some good lumber.”
“Want me to go take a look around?” Noah gestured toward the logs he’d just measured. “I’m finished here.”
Arthur nodded. “Good idea. Let me know what you think.”
When the boss strode away, Noah gathered his ledger and tools and headed back down the work trail toward camp. He’d stow his things and then hike down to the bay on his way to checking out their original cutting site. He’d intended to check on Evie’s supplies this morning before breakfast, but time slipped away from him. Though he felt sure Chief Seattle’s people had kept their word, he’d like to be able to tell Evie he had checked.
Evie straightened, holding the heavy ax in one hand and pressing the other into the small of her back. Though she was no stranger to work, never had she felt such an ache. The pain crept from her back down her thighs until she thought her legs might give out from the strain. The weight of the ax dragged on her right arm, pulling at muscles already tortured with the unaccustomed exercise. She dropped the tool and lifted her heavy mane of hair to wipe perspiration from the back of her neck with a sleeve. Another item to add to her list for tomorrow—handkerchiefs. Or maybe a stack of linen napkins, since her dainty handkerchiefs were more for decoration than real work.
A Bride for Noah Page 13