Frontier Agreement

by Shannon Farrington

  “No, brother, I do not! The children simply asked a question.”

  He turned to Claire. “You think yourself better than your people. You will not help them bring the buffalo.”

  She desperately wanted to help her people, but the dance tonight would not bring good hunting, would not put food in their bellies.

  “And now you both poison the children with your lies. You seek to make them white, like this dog here—he and his chiefs seek to make the Mandan weak. They say no more war with our enemies!”

  He tossed the Bible into the still smoldering fire. The flames ignited at once. The precious pages blackened and curled.

  “No!” Claire cried. Immediately she lurched for it, only to be caught by Pierre’s strong arms.

  “Let it go,” he said.

  “But it belonged to my father!”

  “I know...but it’s too late.”

  Mustering her strength, Evening Sky pushed to her feet. “You speak of what you do not know, brother. Claire has only spoken truth. Both she and this man seek only a better life for our people, our children.”

  At that, Running Wolf cursed his sister.

  Claire wanted to take her mother’s place, take the words upon herself. She moved at once to stand beside her mother, but Pierre’s forceful hand pulled her back. Instead, he moved forward.

  “How dare you speak to a lady in such a fashion,” he said.

  Running Wolf did not understand his words, but he clearly recognized the tone of the rebuke. He turned the full force of his anger on Pierre and the God he represented. Out of his mouth flew a venomous stream of words, ones Claire dared not translate.

  Running Wolf started toward the Frenchman. Pierre advanced, as well. Both stood with hands ready to draw their weapons, Running Wolf his tomahawk, Pierre his knife. God, no! Claire breathed. Please!

  Running Wolf drew his weapon first.

  Claire screamed.

  “Brother, no!” Evening Sky rushed toward him.

  It was an accident, of that Claire was certain, but as Running Wolf turned to fling his sister aside, his weapon slashed her stomach.

  “No!” Claire screamed.

  Pierre immediately surged forward, wrestled Running Wolf’s arms behind his back, but he was too late.

  Scarlet bloomed on Evening Sky’s tunic.

  “Mother!”

  Dazed, Evening Sky sank to her knees. Claire raced to catch her. Laying her as gently as she could on the hard-packed ground, Claire pressed her hands to the wound. The bleeding aside, there was something else that gave her great alarm. Evening Sky’s stomach was swollen, as if she were with child.

  But that was impossible. Her mother had told her once she was now beyond childbearing age. Claire’s mind quickly offered her another explanation. The weakness in her legs these past months, the intermittent pain... The wound from the tomahawk was not life-threatening, but if her mother truly did have cancer... Oh God...please...

  Claire called to Little Flower’s youngest sister, not yet thirteen, She Who Walks Tall. “Fetch me hot water!”

  As the girl moved to do so, Claire heard the tomahawk drop to the ground. “The wound was not meant for you, sister,” Running Wolf said.

  The man for whom the wound was surely meant then spoke. “What would you have me do?” he asked Claire.

  Evening Sky’s eyes pierced her daughter’s. Claire knew the answer without her mother even saying the words. “Let him go,” she said, although her heart was not as willing as her voice.

  “Are you insane?” Pierre asked.

  Evening Sky waved her hand, uttered the command in Mandan. Pierre reluctantly obeyed, but keeping his own knife ready, he moved to shadow Claire.

  Running Wolf crept toward his sister and laid a hand upon her forehead. It was the closest thing to an apology a man like him would offer, but Evening Sky accepted it with a nod. The warrior then gestured for one of the children to fetch Claire’s needles.

  Yes, the wound would need to be stitched, but Claire wasn’t certain she could do it. Her hands were trembling so, and as for the other matter... God...please...do not let it be so...

  Pierre saw how shaken she was. “Shall I send for Captain Lewis?”

  “Please.”

  He motioned for Spotted Eagle, choosing him because he was known at the fort. Claire was glad Pierre hadn’t offered to fetch the captain himself. She needed his presence right now. She needed him to think for her. Finding a piece of tanned hide and paint, Pierre scribbled a short message to the commanding officer, then sent Spotted Eagle on his way.

  Meanwhile, Claire kept her hands pressed to her mother’s wound and prayed. She prayed like she never had before, frantically, and desperately. She longed for the captain’s quick arrival, yet at the same time dreaded just that. Surely he would inform her of what she already knew.

  Chapter Nine

  Unbeknownst to Pierre, Spotted Eagle had gone to fetch not only Captain Lewis but also Chief Black Cat. Upon their arrival at the lodge, the captain did not ask what had precipitated this circumstance, although he surely had an idea. He had witnessed Running Wolf’s temperament before. Just what he thought of Pierre’s in this moment was unknown. Lewis simply went straight to work doctoring. Chief Black Cat did inquire, first of Running Wolf. Pierre listened hard but sadly understood little of the warrior’s explanation.

  Claire was too busy helping tend her mother to translate, but when Black Cat turned to Pierre to ask of the situation, she came to his aid.

  “He wants to know why you are at the lodge,” she said.

  Why? That had a clear-cut answer. “Tell him I wanted to be certain you were well. Tell him that Running Wolf displayed much anger toward you and your mother at the fort, and I was therefore concerned for your welfare.”

  Black Cat gave no indication at first what he thought of Pierre’s answer. Then, after a pause, he said something that made Claire redden. When she hesitated to relay the question, the man gestured forcefully for her to do so.

  “What did he say?” Pierre asked.

  The blush further darkened. Clearly she did not wish to tell him. He remembered what she had said about Running Wolf accusing them of impropriety. The only impropriety the man could cite could be in terms of his own religion, that according to him, Pierre and Claire were undermining it. Still, Pierre felt terrible. If he had somehow tarnished Claire’s honor, besmirched her reputation, he would never forgive himself.

  “What did he say?” he asked once more.

  Claire lowered her eyes to the ground. “He wants to know if you wish to claim me.”

  “Claim you?”

  “As a wife.”

  Pierre felt the blood drain from his face. Had he gotten himself dangerously close to an arranged marriage yet again? Yes, he wanted to help Claire, but no, he did not wish to claim her. He detested the thought of anyone claiming anybody. Love was supposed to be a choice. A mutual choice, made of one’s own free will.

  When Pierre’s tongue failed him, Black Cat spoke again. Claire explained, “The chief says he does not understand why you would interfere in this matter if you did not have such intentions.”

  He didn’t? Well, that Pierre could easily explain. “Tell him that as a gentleman, as a Christian, it is my duty to look out for others.”

  She repeated his response. Black Cat stared at Pierre, his lined face marked by a most puzzled expression. He turned then to Spotted Eagle, asked him what he had witnessed.

  The child chattered quickly, gesturing and pointing to each of the adults while they looked on in silence. At one point, Running Wolf interjected. Claire waited until both he and the boy had finished before translating.

  “Running Wolf accused you of trying to turn his children from Mandan ways, but Spotted Eagle says that you did
not tell him he should not dance or that he should seek to become like the white man. He says that my mother and I did not tell him or the others to do so, either.”

  So the boy had confirmed the truth. Whether it was to be believed or not was yet to be seen. Pierre cast a glance at his captain, thinking it odd that the man had not plied him with questions. Pierre’s superior officer appeared to be totally preoccupied with his stitching, but he knew from experience the man was listening intently and evaluating everything that was happening. How he would respond to the situation was yet to be seen, as well.

  Chief Black Cat then raised his hand, a signal that he had come to a decision. Was Pierre about to be banished from this village? Would Running Wolf be punished for what he had done to his sister? And the question that had plagued him for two weeks now remained forefront. What would happen to Claire?

  The chief looked Pierre square in the eye. “Do you wish to live in peace with the Mandans?” he asked, according to Claire.

  “Yes,” Pierre answered adamantly.

  The chief then turned to Running Wolf, asked if he wished to live in peace with the men of the fort. The warrior answered affirmatively, as well, although with far less enthusiasm than Pierre had shown.

  “We will then speak no more of this,” Black Cat decreed. “Running Wolf will put away his tomahawk and the white man will put away his knife.”

  Pierre was surprised at the leniency of the chief’s words, and the lack of consequences for both him and Running Wolf. After all, it had been a dangerous confrontation, and someone had already gotten hurt. Then he realized Claire had not translated everything Black Cat had said. He knew that because when the chief again looked directly at her, she hesitated. Running Wolf was practically grinning.

  Pierre watched as Claire bowed to her chief and spoke again in Mandan. He struggled to gather the general meaning of the words, for they were spoken much too quickly. Running Wolf’s grin faded. Black Cat said something else. This time Claire remained silent. The chief gave a short nod and then, with apparently nothing more to say, exited the lodge.

  “What just happened?” Pierre asked her.

  “Nothing.” She returned to her mother’s side. Running Wolf remained near his sister’s pallet, with a look on his face that Pierre could not quite read. Pierre stood where he was, trying to interpret the situation. Clearly more than nothing had happened, and whatever it was, Claire did not wish to tell him.

  He found himself rather annoyed by that fact, yet told himself he had no right to be taken into her confidence. He had just told her and everyone else in this lodge that he had no intention of claiming her. The memory of what Sergeant Ordway had said earlier concerning the medicine man flashed through his mind. Had Claire just agreed to marry him instead? His stomach rolled at the thought.

  But if she had, wouldn’t that have pleased Running Wolf greatly? He didn’t look all that pleased. What is going on? He had to know. “Claire...”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Pierre held her gaze firmly until she turned fully toward him.

  “What did you promise the chief?”

  She blinked.

  “Are you to marry the medicine man?”

  “Certainly not!” She came to him once again, and this time she finally explained.

  Evidently Chief Black Cat’s solution for maintaining peace between her uncle and the Frenchman was for Claire to stop speaking of Christ to her family. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told him, respectfully, that I must obey God rather than men, but that I would promise not to speak unless I was spoken to, not to teach unless asked.”

  “And what did your uncle say to that?”

  “He quickly promised that he would make certain no one, at least in this lodge, ever asked.”

  With that she returned to her mother. The stitching now finished, Captain Lewis rose to his feet and came to Pierre. “You handled that well, Lafayette.”

  Did he? The conflict within him intensified. He had promised peace, but at what cost? He said as much to the man.

  “We are here to appreciate the culture, study it, if you will. Not interfere. Need I remind you that the results of doing so could be disastrous?”

  “But sir, what about decency? Faith? Are we not bound by a higher duty to advance such things?”

  “We are indeed, but I believe one must cultivate peaceful relations before doing so.” Lewis lowered his voice, looked him square in the eye. “Unless you plan to marry this girl, remain here as a member of this tribe and change the culture from within, which I highly discourage, by the way, you must respect her uncle’s authority over her. If you do not, you will find not only yourself in danger but also your fellow expedition members. We are sixteen hundred miles up the Missouri, Lafayette. No one will come to our aid if we find ourselves in conflict with the tribe.”

  Sadly, Pierre knew he was right. He had seen what his interference had accomplished tonight. He could not risk war. But are we already not engaged in conflict? Is there not a war between light and darkness, life and death? What was he to do?

  For now he focused on the most immediate concern. “What about her mother?” he asked.

  The captain drew in a breath, just as Claire moved from her mother’s side and came to stand with them. Running Wolf kept vigil at his sister’s pallet.

  “Lafayette,” Lewis said, “I know the mademoiselle understands English fairly well, but will you be good enough to translate so that there is no mistaking what I say?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  She, however, spoke first. “It’s the cancer, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  There were tears in her eyes, but she set her jaw most bravely. Pierre wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, give her permission to cry, comfort and shelter her, but that was something he knew he had no right to do. He stood where he was, arms at his sides.

  “We have herbs and poultices that sometimes treat such things,” she said, “but never at such an advanced stage. Have you medicine, Captain? Have you something that will help her?”

  Pierre could tell she knew the answer for herself already. He could see it in her eyes, but she was desperate for hope.

  “Only for the pain, my dear,” Lewis said. “I’m sorry.”

  Giving in to feelings, Pierre laid his hand softly upon her shoulder. Claire’s lower lip quivered slightly. How much time her mother had, they did not know, but Pierre suspected by the look on Lewis’s face that it was not long.

  God in Heaven...help her...

  The captain cast a glance then in Running Wolf’s direction. He sat guard over his sister, eyeing the white men with an obvious look of suspicion. “If you would like, we could move your mother back to the fort,” Lewis said. “If you think she would wish it.”

  To move an injured woman—already weakened by illness—was a risk all of its own, perhaps bringing demise by way of the wound. But that is his point, Pierre thought. She is going to die anyway. Is it more merciful for it to happen more quickly, and in a place where she and her daughter will not be tormented?

  Pierre didn’t want to bring more harm to Evening Sky, but he also didn’t want to see more harm come to her daughter. Running Wolf had promised peace for now, but what would happen to Claire if she was left on her own?

  Claire drew in a shallow breath as if she herself was thinking of such possibilities. “Merci, Captain. I shall inquire of my mother’s wishes.”

  “Very well,” Lewis said. He looked at Pierre. “In the meantime, I believe I shall see what has become of your comrade.” He bowed to the mademoiselle, then turned on his heel.

  Pierre’s hand was still on Claire’s shoulder. As Lewis left the lodge, she slipped from his reach and returned to her mother. She spoke
to her in Mandan. Pierre couldn’t catch even half of the words, but he could guess their context.

  Why did you not tell me? Why did you keep this hidden for so long?

  Evening Sky patted her daughter’s hand, said something in return. Claire went on to explain the captain’s offer, for Pierre clearly heard Lewis’s name amid the Mandan. At that, Running Wolf’s jaw tightened slightly. He cast Pierre another suspicious glance.

  The Frenchman’s hand inadvertently touched the handle of his knife, but he did not draw it out. He wanted the man to know that despite his own promise of peace, he was not foolish enough to let down his guard. He would protect these women if he had to.

  The warrior held his look for a moment then turned back to his family. There was more talk. There were more tears from Claire. Pierre moved closer to her but kept his attention focused on her uncle. Running Wolf’s expression shifted from anger to pleasure and then to questioning. At the last, he again patted his sister’s head, like a man who knew not what to do or expect next.

  Claire covered her mother with a second buffalo skin, then stood. The worry in her eyes was still there, but she was trying hard to appear calm.

  “What did she say?” Pierre asked.

  “She wishes to remain here.”

  Somehow he knew that was going to be the answer, but he did not like it. How could he look after her properly if she remained here? “Claire...”

  “She is confident that God will bring healing.”

  Pierre didn’t doubt the Almighty’s ability to do so. The question was, would He? While Pierre believed with all his heart that the Lord worked all things for good in the end, God’s plans could seem unfathomable at times. “And your uncle?”

  “My mother believes God will bring healing to him, as well.”

  Which, despite his own personal faith, Pierre had to admit seemed a more difficult task than the first. But whatever healing Running Wolf required concerned him less than the pain Claire was feeling. He knew how hard she had struggled with Phillip Granger’s betrayal. How would she deal with the fact that her uncle had injured her mother? “And you?” he asked.