She arrived in the kitchen to see Grace and Mercy embracing and Grace telling Mercy how much she was loved.
“No matter what has happened, no matter what you endured, God loves you and He will help you through this. I love you too, and I will be here to help you also.”
“And just how will you help?” Hope asked from the archway.
Grace straightened, and Mercy reclaimed her seat. “I will help in whatever way I’m allowed.”
“You refuse to help me.” Hope fixed Grace with an accusing expression. She wanted Grace to feel so guilty, so bad, that she would help Hope end the pregnancy. “You talk a lot about helping, but when it comes to actually doing something, you leave us to our own devices.”
“Hope, that’s not fair. As I told Mercy, I’d give anything—even my own life—to be able to remake that day.”
“There’s nothing you can give.” Hope looked at Mercy and an overwhelming sorrow washed over her. “We already gave it all.”
A knock sounded on the door behind her, and Hope glanced over her shoulder but did nothing to answer it.
Mercy got up from the table. “I’ll get it. I have to go or I’ll be late for school.”
“But you haven’t eaten,” Grace said, getting up to follow her.
“I’m not hungry.” Mercy took her coat from a peg by the door. “I’m going to see Mary Ann after school and talk to her about Jesus.”
Grace looked as if she might protest, but instead she told Mercy she would bring her something for lunch.
Mercy opened the door, and Eletta Browning gave her a nod. “Good morning, child. How are you today?” She stepped into the house.
“I’m better, Mrs. Browning.” Mercy said nothing more as she hurried out the door, leaving Hope wishing she could say the same.
Eletta caught sight of Hope and Grace. “I wonder if we might speak together.”
“Of course.” Grace smiled and motioned Eletta to the kitchen. “We’re just having breakfast. Hope, your oatmeal is on the table.”
“I’m going to my room.”
“No, wait,” Eletta said, surprising them both. “I want to talk to you too.”
Hope wanted no part of it. “I’m tired.” She tightly gripped the bottle in her pocket. She needed to leave soon, or she’d lose her nerve.
Eletta nodded and twisted her gloved hands. “Please just hear me out. I think I have a way to help you.”
“Help Hope?” Grace asked.
“Yes. Actually, it was Isaac’s idea.”
Hope had to admit she was intrigued. She walked to the table and plopped into the chair recently vacated by her sister. Grace and Eletta followed suit, taking the other chairs.
Eletta folded her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze on Hope. “I know you’re distressed, even desiring death because of the child you carry,” she said, wasting no time. “I know how you have suffered.”
“You know nothing. You weren’t at the massacre.”
“Hope, you have no right to speak in such a manner to Eletta. She’s come to offer her help.”
With a heavy sigh, Hope leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “She can do nothing. You could offer me a solution but refuse. You’ve failed me.” Hope chose those exact words, knowing they would hurt Grace the most.
“Hope, we have no way of knowing why this child has come to be,” Eletta said, taking charge. “But only God can create life. It must be His will that this child be born.”
A dozen sarcastic comments came to mind, but when Hope opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.
“Isaac and I have longed for children but seem unable to have them. We’re leaving in a few weeks to go to California. My husband wrote an old friend and yesterday received a reply. There’s a small church where Isaac is needed to preach until October. We thought perhaps you might come with us. You could await the birth of the baby, and once the child is born . . . Isaac and I would take it as our own.”
“You want to raise a half-breed child? A baby born out of force and such ugliness that I can’t even speak of it? Are you mad?”
Eletta looked at Grace and then back to Hope. “My arms are empty, Hope. Where a babe should be nestled against my breast, there is nothing—only that terrible void.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know you have endured more than is fair. I know that you do not want this child, but I do. What happened isn’t the babe’s fault. The child is innocent of the father’s action—just as you are. Would you have someone punish you for what was clearly not your doing? Ending the baby’s life won’t change what happened. It won’t take away those memories.”
Until that moment, Hope had never felt even the slightest compassion for the baby in her womb. Until then, the child had been a monster—the creation of a heartless heathen. Eletta’s words, however, pierced her heart.
“I know I have no right to ask you to bear this child for me, but I am,” Eletta said. “I’m begging, in fact. Please let the baby live, and I will raise it to know love and kindness rather than rejection.”
“The baby will be half Cayuse,” Hope murmured, still not sure what to think.
“My husband is a quarter Cherokee. The baby’s features will seem natural. And the babe could take after you more than the father.”
“How would we keep people from knowing?”
“Obviously the folks in California would know that you bore a child. Isaac would explain what had happened to you—that way you wouldn’t face condemnation. Once the baby is born, Isaac will see you safely returned to your sisters.”
Hope fingered the bottle of arsenic in her pocket. She could choose life or death. It was entirely up to her. She thought again of Eletta’s words about the baby being innocent. The baby had no say . . . just as Hope had had no say, and if Hope was ever able to recover from all that had happened, it would be best not to have the guilt of murder on her mind.
“You don’t have to make up your mind just now, but we only have a few days before we leave. Dr. McLoughlin is arranging passage for us on one of the ships heading south.”
Was death truly preferable to life? Hope thought of John Sager. It seemed as if that part of her life, that happiness, had happened years ago instead of just months. She called to mind something John had written. He spoke of his love of life—of seeing each new sunrise, of breathing deep the scent of newly turned earth. He would reprimand her for her desire to die, because he would never have chosen it for himself. Of course, no one gave him a choice.
After a long, silent moment, Hope looked at her sister and Eletta. She produced the arsenic and placed it in the middle of the table. Grace’s eyes widened. She no doubt recognized it.
Silence hung heavy on the air, but Hope knew her decision had been made. She would live—for John Sager’s sake. She would live so that his memory would live.
“Very well. I’ll go with you.”
Chapter
21
LATE MAY, 1848
Alex and Sam sat across the table from several of their fellow trappers. The spring furs were in, and now there would be the short lull of summer to tend to other needs. For now, everyone’s thoughts were on the Indians and the growing tensions. For months the Oregon Country men had been out searching for the Cayuse responsible for the Whitman massacre. There had been dozens of conflicts and deaths in their wake.
“Our people realize that the days of peace are gone,” Sam said, honing his knife on a whetstone.
“You’re a good Indian, Sam. I’m not saying you or your people have caused it, but it seems to me the Indians are all to blame for the upheaval,” a grizzled older man said, then put a large plug of tobacco in his mouth.
“My mother often said it takes two to argue or fight.” Alex knew these men were far more concerned with their livelihood than with the relationship between the whites and the Indians. “I’m of a mind that both sides aren’t without their flaws.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t see us attackin’ helpless Indian villages.”
&n
bsp; “But Americans have done so,” Alex countered. “History proves that well enough. We drove them out of the eastern states, and when they wouldn’t go, they were attacked and killed.”
“You an Indian lover, Armistead?”
“I happen to believe that God calls us to love everyone. At least that’s what I recall my Bible teaching.”
A man came to Alex from the back room. He gave Alex a piece of paper. “Is this the place and the person you want me to see the horse and saddle delivered to?”
Alex looked over the paper and nodded. He was finally arranging for Grace to get her horse back. No doubt she could use it. “It looks right. I don’t know exactly where she is, but Oregon City was the last place she was known to be. I think she’ll still be there. Her uncle lives there, and she was waiting for him. You should add his name to the instructions. Edward Marsh.”
The man nodded. “I know Marsh. Didn’t know he was an uncle.”
Alex smiled and handed back the paper. “Three times over, but the best one is Grace.”
The man left, and Alex turned his attention back to the conversation, briefly catching Sam’s smirk. No doubt Sam felt Alex was continuing to be foolish for not contacting Grace.
“It’s all about power,” one of the trappers countered. “Power to control and expand. This is soon to be a territory all its own. I heard from Peter Ogden that a delegation went east to Washington City not long after the massacre. They intend to get the government to name this the Oregon Territory. No doubt after that we’ll press on for statehood.”
Alex heard a sense of frustration in the trapper’s tone. “There are a lot of folks who don’t want the government in their business. However, with the coming of settlers, we need a stricter code of law and order. One that can be regulated to keep the peace.”
“What I know is that all these people are drivin’ out the wildlife, pushin’ ’em to the north, and that’s where I’m headed. The Company was smart to move their headquarters to Fort Victoria. I know old McLoughlin fought it, but seein’ as how the Americans now lay claim to this area, it was the best decision.”
One of the other men nodded. “It’s just a matter of time until they take this fort for the military.”
The old-timer nodded, getting to his feet. He spit and then gathered up his things. “I’m happy for company if any of you boys want to head out with me. It’s a good time to gather our gear and head north. We can figure out where to winter and where the best trapping grounds are while the weather holds.”
One of the other trappers got to his feet. “I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing. I can’t say I enjoy all these people coming around. Gettin’ way too crowded for my blood.”
Alex smiled but said nothing. Some of these men knew nothing about the bigger cities, where hundreds of thousands of people could be found in close proximity to each other. It was hard to believe that they considered a territory that didn’t even hold a hundred thousand people to be crowded.
Once they’d gone, Alex turned to Sam. “So what of you and your village? Will you go north as well?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s hard to say. My father has always said the big rivers are life to us. The salmon are needed to sustain us. I think he will want to be wherever the salmon are.”
“From what I’ve heard, they can be had around Fort Victoria as well.”
Sam nodded. “If things get bad, there may not even be a chance to go. You know that. The militia has caused more than a little trouble, and I don’t see it getting any better for the Nez Perce.” He toyed with the knife he’d been sharpening. “I fear my children will know a different world—if they live to see it.”
Alex hated the tone of Sam’s voice. A sense of defeat already seemed to take hold of him. It was time to change the conversation.
“I’ve still heard nothing from my sister. I know it’s probably too early to get a letter.”
“What will you do if she doesn’t answer?”
“I honestly don’t know. When you started talking about resolving the past in order to have a future, I knew you were right. I know you’re still right.”
Sam puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “I’m always right.” Alex laughed, and Sam did as well, relaxing his pose.
“You are often right, my friend. Of that there is no doubt. Still, I’d like to know what I was getting myself into before just showing up in New Orleans. That’s a long, dangerous trip to make. Costly too.”
Sam nodded. “But it would be costly to lose Grace.”
“Yes. It would be, but I have to risk that.”
“Not if you went to talk to her. You could just take her horse to her. It would be the perfect excuse. Then while you’re there, you could tell her what you plan to do and ask if she’ll wait for you.”
Alex had thought of that again and again, but given the way things were, he didn’t think he had the right to ask her to wait. Who knew how bad things might get?
Sam leaned forward. “I know you love her. You can deny it, but that won’t change the truth.”
“I don’t want to deny it—at least not anymore. I just can’t expect her to give up her life on the hope that we can have a future together when I may not have a future to give. There are a lot of men out here in search of a wife. Good men who would treat Grace well.”
Sam grunted and got up from the table.
Alex looked at him as Sam put his knife back in its sheath. “You headed somewhere?”
“Figured I’d find some company who could speak sense. You aren’t making any.”
A Nez Perce boy appeared at the door. He looked fourteen or fifteen at the most and was clearly out of breath from running. He spied Sam and came to him immediately. They conversed in a hushed tone for several moments, then the boy took off again. Sam looked worried.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked, getting to his feet. “Is something wrong?”
“There’s been trouble at my village.”
“From the white militia sent to find the Whitman killers?”
Sam shook his head. “No. From some of the Cayuse—probably the killers themselves. My father’s been injured.”
“Then we need to go. You get our gear, and I’ll get the horses. If we ride hard, we can be there by morning.”
Grace missed Hope more than she’d thought she would. Despite her sister’s negativity and anger, she was still precious to Grace. Mercy missed Hope too. Even more after Mary Ann’s death in March. Mercy had told Grace that Mary Ann knew heaven would be a beautiful place and that she would get to see her mother again, because her mother had loved Jesus too. Mercy had hoped their mother might also be close at hand, because she’d asked Mary Ann to give her a message.
“I wanted Mama to know how much we miss her,” Mercy had told Grace. “And I want her to be friends with Mary Ann and her mama.”
Her words had deeply touched Grace. Mercy had at one time said she hated all Indians, but upon realizing Mary Ann had an Indian mother, she had changed her opinion. Grace was glad, because many Oregon City men had taken Indian wives, and children from those unions were common. Even Dr. McLoughlin’s wife was part Cree, and she was most beloved.
Settling into their life in the town hadn’t been difficult for Grace. Not like it had been for some. Because of her uncle’s generosity and forethought, Grace and her sisters hadn’t been forced to seek husbands or indenture themselves, but Grace had no idea how long they could hold out. Surely Uncle Edward would return soon. She had asked Dr. McLoughlin to check into whether her uncle had returned to Fort Vancouver. It was possible—after all, the cattle he went for belonged mostly to the Hudson’s Bay Company. The doctor had promised to find out for her.
“Are we going to gather herbs today?” Mercy asked, coming around the corner of the house.
“Yes.” Grace looked up from the scrubboard. “I have to finish washing these last few things and then get them hung up before I can do anything else, however. Have you finished with the dusting and sweeping?�
�� She moved the last of the clothes to the rinse water.
Mercy nodded. “We don’t make a very big mess.”
“That’s true enough.” Grace smiled. Mercy was finally filling out and looked to have regained her health. Come September she would turn thirteen, and in a very short time she’d be grown. It was hard to imagine her married with children of her own, but Grace knew the day was coming.
“I’d like to go see the falls again. They’re so pretty, even with the mills.”
Mercy’s comment forced Grace to put aside her thoughts. She looked out across the river. “Well, it’s a beautiful day, and we can certainly walk that way on our search. I need to find bitterroot, and I know there should be some under the fir trees, so we can go past the falls. Now, if you want to be helpful, would you run to Mrs. Cranston’s house and take her that bottle of tonic for her rheumatism I left on the kitchen table? I promised it to her as soon as possible.”
“Sure. When I get back, hopefully you’ll be ready to go.” Mercy disappeared around the corner of the house without another word.
Putting her attention back on the job at hand, Grace quickly rinsed the remaining pieces of clothing and wrung them out. Sunny days without rain came at a premium, and Grace didn’t want to waste a single moment of potential drying time.
She began hanging the sheets and thought about Hope and the day she’d realized her sister was with child. Grace could still see the look of horror on Hope’s face. She wondered if her sister could ever recover from all that had happened to her.
Eletta had sent a letter saying that Hope was in much better spirits, but that she still tended toward anger and sadness. Grace prayed daily that God would release Hope from those bonds. Her sister had always been such a happy person prior to the massacre, and seeing Mercy gradually recover gave Grace all the more desire for Hope to do so as well.
All I really want for her is to be happy—to find true love and put the ugly things that happened behind her.
Treasured Grace Page 22