This Wilderness Journey

by Misty M. Beller

  He nodded. “They have been open to the other medicines and foods I bring them. I think her mother will be willing.”

  They would see soon enough, for the Peigan camp came into sight the next minute.

  A few children met them at the edge of the clearing, but not so many as had come the first day. Apparently, she wasn’t quite as intriguing as she’d been before.

  After handing their horses off to one of the youths to tend them, they carried their supplies directly to the lodge where Hollow Oak had been.

  Two men sat in front of the fire, smoking from pipes. Both rose as they approached. The older of the two stepped forward and spoke, making hand motions as he did.

  Antoine answered, using the same hand motions mixed with scattered Indian words.

  The man spoke again, and during his discourse, motioned to the man behind him.

  Antoine turned to her. “This is Fighting Elk, the father of Hollow Oak. And his brother, Thunder Rumbles.”

  Monti nodded to both men and offered as much of a smile as she could muster in the presence of two intimidating braves.

  Both braves were tall and clothed in buckskins. The brother, Thunder Rumbles, nodded back, and seemed to scrutinize her. Not in an improper or hostile way, but it made the fine hairs on her arms rise anyway.

  Antoine was following the first man toward the teepee, so Monti hurried after them. She could feel the eyes of Thunder Rumbles on her with each step, and she didn’t breathe again until she’d stepped inside and the flap closed behind her.

  Hollow Oak sat on a low stack of furs. She held something that looked like a carved doll but smiled and bounced when she saw Monti.

  That smile melted a warm puddle in Monti’s chest, and she knelt to pull the girl into a quick hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  The child held up the figurine. “Hurit.” At least the word she spoke sounded something like that.

  Monti stroked the indentations carved for the doll’s hair. “Pretty.” Then she stroked Hollow Oak’s hair, pulling the loose strands back from her face. “We brought you medicine to help you feel better.”

  The girl looked into Monti’s eyes. A trusting gaze, and Monti tried to return a reassuring smile, despite the way her heart ached to see the dear little one struggling.

  Antoine knelt beside her, holding an open piece of leather on his palm. In the center lay some of the mixture they’d brought. Simeon and Emma had spent almost an hour creating the remedy from all manner of herbs and powders they ground into a paste. Then, Emma had mixed in some other treats that she hoped would make it more palatable for the girl.

  Antoine spoke an Indian word, and the girl took the mixture and popped it into her mouth. Emma had said the medicine might be spicy, but Hollow Oak showed no sign of distaste.

  “Can I look at your feet?” She pointed to the fur covering the girl’s legs.

  The girl seemed to acquiesce. When Monti pulled the blanket back, Hollow Oak’s bare ankles were hard to see in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, the girls swollen feet and legs glared up at her, twice as big as they should have been. More swollen than the last time she saw them, if memory served.

  Monti looked at Antoine, who met her gaze. She didn’t have to say how the sight worried her, for the same concern reflected in his eyes.

  He rose. “Sit and talk with the child. I’ll give the mother instructions to continue the treatment.”

  After Monti had spent a few sweet minutes snuggling with Hollow Oak and playing with the doll, Antoine motioned for them to leave. Monti pressed a kiss to the girl’s hair as she raised up a prayer for healing and protection to their Heavenly Father. Only the Lord could heal this precious one.

  When they left the lodge, Thunder Rumbles still stood near the doorway. He spoke a few words to Antoine, then nodded. His eyes landed on her and settled there with a hint of a smile. He had a nice smile with strong features and straight white teeth bright against his tawny skin.

  They moved onto other lodges, and Antoine passed out various items from the supplies they’d brought. A trinket here, a pouch of herbs there. She followed him, smiling at the people they met and trying to absorb any Indian words she could. There were similar sounds, but the language was so fluid, it was hard to tell which sounds belonged to what word, much less what the words actually meant.

  Antoine had taught her a few of the hand signs that were a common language across many of the tribes, so she could at least decipher those when he resorted to sign language.

  After several hours, they prepared to leave. Antoine had just asked the youth to fetch their horses, when Hollow Oak’s father strode toward them.

  At sight of his determined stride, Monti’s heart surged into her throat. Had the girl worsened? Maybe the medicine wasn’t sitting well with her. She studied his face, but he didn’t seem concerned. He just wore that same stoic look he’d had earlier.

  He motioned for Antoine to step to the side with him, which the priest did. The boy came with their horses, and she took both sets of reins. She wasn’t about to mount, though, until she knew whether they were needed again. She stroked the velvety nose of first one animal, then the other, as she watched the men talking.

  They were using a lot of hand motions, and then Antoine shook his head no. He looked over at her, a bemused look on his face. Then he turned back to the Indian and gestured some more.

  At last, Fighting Elk turned and strode back toward his lodge, his regal bearing evident with every step.

  Antoine joined her again, and she raised her brows in question. He shook his head and prepared to mount his horse. Curious, but smart enough not to ask again, she mounted hers.

  After they rounded the bend that blocked the Indian village from their sight, Monti turned to her cousin. “What did he say?”

  Antoine’s weathered face seemed to grow even more haggard. His gaze rose to stare off into the distance, but he didn’t speak.

  She tried to be patient. He wasn’t that talkative by nature and often seemed to ponder his words before he spoke them. But it seemed like at least two or three minutes passed, and he still stared ahead.

  “Antoine.” She worked to keep her tone light and questioning. He’d heard her, she knew. She just had to remind him she would continue waiting until he answered.

  The corners of his eyes creased. “You are much like your mother, ma fifille, in so many ways. Not the least of which was her determination.” He gave her a sidelong glance from the corner of his eye. “Some might call it stubbornness.”

  She worked to hold back her smile, but it was a challenge. “Then you’re quite aware that I’ll not rest until you tell me whatever it is you’re not sure I should know.”

  He glanced at her, then returned his focus to the trail ahead. “Thunder Rumbles has asked for you to be his woman. He is prepared to trade ten horses.”

  She took in such a sharp breath of biting air, her lungs revolted in a gagging cough. It gave her a second for her thoughts to whirl in twenty directions. His woman? Like...marry? She’d only just met the man, and they hadn’t even exchanged one word. They didn’t speak the same language, for mercy’s sake.

  When she caught her breath, she turned to look at him. The idea was so ludicrous, she let fly the one spot of humor she could find. “Ten horses. Is that a lot for a woman?”

  He chuckled. That deep, rich laugh she’d always loved. “I wouldn’t say a lot. If you’re keen on the idea, I’ll barter for fifty.”

  She couldn’t decide if she should be offended, appalled, or honored. The whole idea was almost more than she could wrap her mind around. She eyed her cousin. “Are you jesting?”

  Another chuckle. “Nay, I jest not. He says you have a good and generous heart, and he believes you will make him a good squaw.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “At first I said you had just arrived and I would not allow you to marry so soon. Then Fighting Elk insisted I ask your thoughts on the offer. Perhaps you were alre
ady taken with Thunder Rumbles. I told him I would discuss it with you.”

  Monti’s jaw dropped. “So you didn’t end the matter? They still await an answer?”

  He nodded. “Oui.”

  A long breath seeped out of her as she turned back to the trail. “Well.” And that was the only word she could summon.

  JOSEPH STOOD AT THE edge of the mountain, staring out over the backbone of the world, the name the Indians had given the Rockies. These mountains always settled him, but this last week and a half, they’d lost their calming touch.

  It would take time to get over Monti. To leave her memory behind. Time and distance.

  How could he have fallen for her so thoroughly? Because he’d definitely fallen. With that he’d come to terms during his first day on the trail. He’d never known what it was to love a woman and had never spent much time thinking about what it might feel like.

  If this piercing ache in his chest was any kind of sign, he might just love Monticello Bergeron. But he couldn’t act on it. Or rather, his action had to be to run far, far away. If he loved her, he would stay out of her life. She deserved someone so much better than him—a crippled vagabond.

  Which begged the question, why hadn’t he traveled farther? He’d not moved more than half a day’s ride from the priest’s cabin for a week and a half now. He might not be visiting the woman, but couldn’t seem to put the distance between them that would let the ache in his chest start to heal.

  If only he weren’t crippled. But even then, would he really be worthy of Monti? She was beautiful and strong and intelligent. And he was...a vagrant. A wanderer. With nothing to recommend him.

  Turning away from the cliff’s edge, he mounted Copper, then pointed the horse down the mountain trail.

  “TODAY, WE RETURN TO Hungry Wolf’s camp.”

  Monti straightened from stirring the porridge and faced her cousin. “I think it might be best for you to go settle things and I’ll stay here today.”

  They hadn’t discussed the marriage proposal in the week since it had been offered, but she’d spent more than one restless night turning the whole scenario over and over in her mind. It wasn’t that she was opposed to marrying an Indian. She’d heard many white trappers took Indian wives, so how much different would this be?

  It was all the other things that separated them. Language. The fact she’d barely met the man. She had no idea if he was decent or violent or a drunkard. But the strongest of all barriers between them was the fact that, as far as she knew, none of the Indians in that camp had turned from their worship of the sun to discover the one true God. Perhaps Antoine would be honest and give that as the reason for her refusal. Surely the Indians would understand, and would see how important God was in their lives. Maybe it would spur some of the natives to learn more about Him.

  If Thunder Rumbles did find faith in God, could she accept his suit then? She could barely stomach the thought. Mostly because her heart ached so much over Joseph’s absence. Where had he gone? She and Antoine even visited Emma a few days before, but they’d not seen or heard from him since the last time she had.

  Her heart told her he was staying away on purpose. Her mind occasionally tried to argue the point, saying he likely had legitimate reasons for not returning yet. But as surely as she knew she’d come to love the man, she also knew he was avoiding her. And the pain that thought brought on was almost too much to face.

  Which made it even harder to deal with the idea of an Indian suitor. Any suitor, other than Joseph.

  Antoine’s hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to face him. “It is best for us both to go. You know it, too. I will explain that our faith does not allow you to be unequally yoked with an unbeliever, but you must show you have no malice toward the man. Show him the heart of Jesus.” He cupped his hands over the spot where his own heart resided.

  She couldn’t help but smile at this wise man who’d been such a strong influence in her life, even from hundreds of miles away. “If I must.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The turmoil swirls both within and without. Set my mind on You, Father. Press Your seal upon my wayward heart.

  ~ Monti’s Journal

  AS MONTI NEARED THE Indian camp with the priest, the knot in her middle twisted tighter. What if Thunder Rumbles grew angry at her refusal? Would he be violent? She knew so little about these people and their customs. Her response would likely be a great insult to him.

  She glanced over at Antoine. Should she ask him about it? If Joseph were here, this knot of fear would untangle. She never felt anything but protected by his side.

  But, no. She couldn’t discuss another man’s marriage offer with Joseph. Not when she longed for the proposal to be from him. She jerked her back straight. Where had that thought come from? She was married to her Lord now. She had no need for a man.

  When they entered the camp, the place seemed quieter than normal. At the lodge where Hollow Oak’s family lived, no men sat around the fire as they had before. The woman met them at the door flap and motioned them inside.

  Monti’s chest squeezed as she saw the empty pallet where the girl usually lay. Then a movement from the side caught her attention.

  “Monti.” The girl cried her name as she launched herself into Monti’s arms.

  Monti held her close, breathing in the sweetness of the pudgy arms around her. “How are you? Has the medicine helped you feel better?”

  Hollow Oak chattered in her little-girl voice, and Monti dropped to her knees to watch the girl’s expression as she spoke. It was impossible to understand a single word, but the animation on her face proved how much better she seemed to be feeling than she had the last two times they’d visited.

  At last, Monti turned to Antoine and the young squaw. “How has she been?”

  Antoine spoke up. “Her mother says she has taken the tonic steadily and has seemed better, little by little. She’s been up and playing with the others for three or four days now.”

  The good news eased the tension in her chest, but only a little. “Too much activity may not be good. She should take lots of rests.”

  He nodded and began signing to the woman.

  Monti turned back to the girl, who grabbed her hand and spoke again as she pulled Monti outside.

  A commotion seemed to be coming from the outskirts of camp, and Hollow Oak dragged her to a spot where they could see between the teepees. A group of Indians rode at a fast clip over the hill, slowing their horses as they reached the lodges.

  People came pouring from the teepees and clamored around the riders who paraded through camp. Hollow Oak pulled her forward to join the group, although she wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to be caught up in the throng. Still, she couldn’t help but be curious.

  The riders were all men, all tall and regal on their horses. A war party, perhaps? She didn’t see any paint on their faces or the horses like she’d heard they applied before battle. A few men pulled extra horses with large packs over their backs. Maybe they’d just returned from a long journey. That would explain the enthusiastic greeting.

  Then she saw the deer draped across the back of one of the horses. Some of the other packs began to take solid forms as she studied them differently. Perhaps this was a hunting party then?

  She scanned the men’s face, and her breath caught when she recognized one. Thunder Rumbles. About fifty paces away, his gaze locked on her as the group moved her direction. Even from this distance, she could see the way a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  She wanted to shrink back, to spin around and hide behind a lodge. Or better yet, run back to their horses and ride home. But instead, she offered a kind nod and moved her gaze away from him.

  There were a dozen or more riders, maybe closer to twenty. Another figure near the rear of the group caught her attention. It couldn’t be who she’d thought at first glance. Her mind had so latched onto her heart’s longing for Joseph, she was seeing him everywhere now. The figure wore a fur skin coat
like the other men’s, although it seemed fashioned more like a white man’s coat than the loose robes the Indians wore.

  It was probably the copper colored horse he rode that made her see Joseph in the man. And that special set to his shoulders she’d studied for day after day on their journey from Fort Hamilton.

  As the Indians moved nearer, the lead horses began to pass her. Yet she couldn’t take her gaze from the man in the back of the group.

  People thronged around her, and Antoine’s voice sounded just behind her. He spoke in French, the words roughly translating to “I cannot believe my eyes.”

  She spun to look at him. Did he think it was Joseph, too? Or did his comment refer to something else entirely?

  Antoine’s gaze dropped to hers with an absent-minded smile, then raised back up to the Indians. Or rather, to the man in the back who looked like Joseph.

  He was within twenty strides of her now, his posture relaxed as he scanned the crowd, somewhat bemused by the excitement. She’d seen that look on Joseph’s face before. It had to be him.

  Then his gaze landed on her, locking with hers. The shock that swept over his face lasted only a moment, then slipped behind a mask as he pulled his focus from her and pointed it at the horse in front of him.

  She kept her focus on him as he passed by and until several horses and riders separated them. Soon, the riders disbursed as the throng swallowed them up.

  Monti turned to Antoine, who gave her a knowing look. “We must talk to Fighting Elk and his brother. Then we will seek out our friend.”

  She nodded. Give me strength, Lord.

  When they reached Fighting Elk’s lodge, the young squaw stood outside gesturing to the two men with one hand while she held the ropes of their two horses with her other. The animals dozed behind her, loaded with bundles wrapped in animal skins. All three people seemed to see Antoine and her at the same time and ceased talking as they approached.