Oregon Discovery (Trails of the Heart Book 4)

by Rachel Wesson

  “Jo wasn’t pleased either. I can ride to David and tell him if you want to go straight to Paco.”

  “Great, we will meet you at David’s. Thanks, Almanzo.”

  “No, we will meet you at the camp. If Harvey and his group go looking for trouble, that’s where they will be.”

  Scott nodded and shook his hand before he went to the house. Almanzo guessed he would tell Becky he had to go out but not tell her why. He grabbed a drink of water from the well and then got back on his horse and headed for David’s ranch. One benefit of the family owning adjoining properties was they could reach each other quickly in the event of an emergency. Although each ranch was large, they had arranged the houses so they were close enough. If they had situated the house at the far end of each ranch it would have taken days to get to them all.

  “Evening Almanzo.” Eva got up from the porch seat, laying her mending to one side. Smiling she came to greet him, “Are you here on … Good Lord, what happened to your face?” Eva looked as horrified as Jo had earlier.

  “Harvey and his friends. Is David here?”

  “He’s reading the boys their bedtime story. Why did Harvey attack you or will I wait for David?”

  Almanzo didn’t want to scare the young boys and a couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt. “ I’ll wait until he is finished. I’d rather tell you together,” Almanzo kind of hoped Eva would leave him to talk to David alone but he couldn’t suggest that.

  “Come in and I will get you some coffee. Have you eaten?”

  Almanzo’s stomach grumbled.

  “Guess not,” Eva said smiling. “How are my sister and her family?”

  “Jo and her family are fine or at least they were when I left. Scott said Becky wasn’t feeling too good today.’

  “Poor Becky, it’s hard being pregnant when you have young’uns under foot. I shall go over tomorrow and see what I can do.”

  Almanzo didn’t comment. Having babies was women’s stuff. He had just finished his dinner when Scott came down from the boys’ bedroom.

  “I thought I heard voices. Did you walk into a pole?” Although David was joking his eyes were full of concern.

  “We have trouble in town. Harvey and his friends.”

  “What is that lot up to now?” David asked, his distaste evident

  “They said the Indians attacked a wagon train and two girls were kidnapped. The men were all killed before the soldiers came to their aid.”

  “Where? Which tribe?”

  “I don’t know. You know they don’t care about those details. They were like a pack of dogs baying for blood. Harvey was saying stuff about Walking Tall so I punched him.”

  David gave him a look which spoke volumes but at least he didn’t criticize him openly in front of Eva.

  “I couldn’t stand by and let them talk that way.” Almanzo had to excuse his actions.

  “You should have walked away. George Harvey is a bigoted, self-centered son of a ….”

  “David Clarke, little pitchers have big ears,” Eva warned her husband gesturing upstairs.

  “Sorry darling,” David apologized. “Did you warn Scott?’

  “Yes, he sent me to speak to you. I spoke to Walking Tall first, he didn’t know of any attack so he has gone to see Paco. Scott went there too.”

  “Where are Paco and his tribe camped? On Scott’s land?”

  “Yes down near the river. But I don’t think being on Scott’s land will help them this time,” Almanzo couldn’t bear to put the truth into words. “Harvey was talking about lynching them.”

  David took his gun down from above the door and checked it. Then he turned to Eva. “Get the children up. I want to take you to your pa’s and then we will go on to Scott’s. I will send Jessie for the sheriff. He is a fair man. He won’t stand for this.

  “Won't the sheriff be out looking for the missing girls?” Almanzo asked.

  “True, I hadn’t thought of that.” David looked at Almanzo before turning his attention back to Eva.

  “David, I am not getting the children up again. Go to Scott. Jessie was Scott’s right hand man for years. There is nothing he can’t handle. I can fire a gun. We have the root cellar if all else fails.”

  Almanzo knew there was a deep cellar under the house. It was something Scott insisted was built into every house. It was used to store foodstuffs for the winter months but also for protection if necessary. It would buy the family time in the event of an attack. Almanzo knew nobody had expected it to be used as protection against other whites but these were the times they lived in. The gold and silver mines had attracted all types, some of them less pleasant than the worst of those they had met on the wagon train.

  Almanzo borrowed one of David’s horses while one of Scott’s ranch hands looked after his. He listened as David briefly explained the situation to the men. He knew Eva and the children were in good hands. The hands who worked for David Clarke idolized his wife and family. They were mostly single guys and Eva did her best to provide them with some of the home comforts they missed. They could perhaps have done without the weekly bath she insisted on but they were grateful for her cooking, her laundry skills and the fact she watched over them as a substitute mother. His thoughts wandered to the two young girls in captivity. How were they doing? Their families must be in despair. He could only imagine how bad it would be if Sarah and Carrie had been kidnapped. Rick and Jo would be frantic.

  Chapter 4

  Indian Camp

  Tilly opened her eyes but swiftly closed them again at the pain. She moved slightly on the bear skin bed, liking the feel of the fur against her skin despite her stomach not being keen on where her bed covers had originated. Tentatively she rubbed her fingers over her face.

  “It is best not to touch. This should help.”

  Tilly forgot about the discomfort as her eyes flew open at the sound of the woman’s voice. Her English wasn’t fluent but not because it was a second language. It was more like it had been a long time since she had spoken it. She looked at the Indian closely. Her skin was tanned to a nut brown but she had blue eyes. Her hair although dark looked like it had been colored.

  “Who are you?” Tilly asked, drawing back from the woman.

  “My name is Broken Wing. Don’t look alarmed. I am here to help you not hurt you.”

  Tilly immediately looked for Fiona. Her friend was out cold. She moved to check her but the Indian put out her hand to stop her

  “She is sleeping. I gave her something to help. She has been burnt too but is worse than you. Her skin is paler. See?”

  Tilly looked closer at Fiona. Her skin was indeed red raw with little blisters from where it had been exposed to the sun. Despite the Indian’s word, she checked her but to her relief, Fiona was sleeping.

  “I will get you some more water and something to eat,” Broken Wing said quietly.

  “Why are we here? Why did your people kill the others?” Tilly demanded taking a step back from the Indian.

  “None of my people killed anyone. They rescued you two. They were unable to save anyone else.” Tilly thought the woman looked sad but why would she care about white strangers?

  Tilly wanted to know more but the woman had already left. She moved quickly despite her bad limp. How had she been injured? Was it some sort of punishment inflicted by members of the tribe? She tried not to think about the newspaper articles she had read on how Indians treated female hostages.

  Instead, she looked around the dwelling. It seemed to be made of branches woven together with a hole at the top. She wondered what it was for. She squinted up at the sky but her face hurt too much. The woman didn’t take long. She handed Tilly a drink.

  Tilly sniffed it wondering if it was safe.

  “It is only water. You do not need another draught,” the Indian said in response to Tilly’s actions.

  “You already drugged me?” Tilly said, disbelief written all over her face.

  “It was necessary to keep you quiet. The men were worried you wou
ld scream and give us away.” The Indian woman’s matter of fact tone pushed Tilly to respond truthfully.

  “I would have,” Tilly conceded. “In fact, I …”

  “You won’t do anything to jeopardize your friend. You have kind eyes. You care deeply for this girl yet I do not think you are sisters.” Broken Wing interrupted in her calm voice.

  “She is my friend,” Tilly replied shortly. “So if I scream, you will murder me?”

  “Not me.”

  Those words sent a shiver of fear down Tilly’s spine. She looked toward the exit.

  Broken Wing’s eyes followed her gaze. “There is a guard on duty. He will not come in. You are safe.”

  “How can that be true when we are surrounded by savages?”

  The woman shut her eyes quickly as if hurt before responding quietly. “The color of a man’s skin does not make him a savage. This is a lesson you should learn.”

  Before Tilly could answer, the woman was gone.

  Tilly moved closer to Fiona, her brave front having disappeared now they were alone. She wished her friend was awake although she envied her peace. She closed her eyes as she lay down beside Fiona. Maybe this was all just a nightmare. Shutting her eyes, she prayed for sleep and hoped she would wake up in their wagon. Better still back in their home in San Francisco. It had been bad there but it was better than this nightmare.

  She woke sometime later. Fiona was still asleep. Thirsty she looked for the water Broken Wing had brought in earlier but it was all gone. Could she be brave and go looking for some? She glanced at Fiona before deciding she had played the part of a prisoner for long enough. She was going to demand they be returned to their own people.

  She moved slowly, enjoying the feel of the earth on the soles of her feet. She looked around but seeing the coast was clear, she walked through the exit. There was nobody guarding them which she thought was a bit odd. She looked from left to right. The women and children all seemed caught up in various chores. A few men were sitting around a fire deep in conversation. She couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. She moved in the direction of the river, her thirst overruling her fear of stepping on something she shouldn’t. Not for the first time, she regretted leaving her shoes and stockings at the river. Not that she was thinking of anything reasonable when she had first seen the Indians.

  She had just got to the edge when an Indian stepped out in front of her. He glared at her as she screamed. He reached out a hand. She retaliated by slapping him forcefully across the face, hurting him before he touched her. He moved his head back, his eyes narrowing in anger. Raising his fist he moved to strike her but another Indian man grabbed his arm from behind. They wrestled for a couple of minutes before the Indian Tilly had struck gave in. He moved away, one hand on his cheek all the time glowering at her. She looked toward the Indian who had saved her. He was grinning at her. He said something but she couldn’t understand him. He gestured at the water and then made a sign of drinking. She nodded. He reached down and making a cup using his hands offered her a drink. She pushed down her objections figuring she would insult him terribly if she didn’t at least take a sip. Her stomach roiled at the sight of his less than clean hands but she forced her lips to the water. It was the right thing to do, as his smile grew bigger.

  “Pretty hair. Face not bad for a squaw. You come share my blanket now?”

  She stepped back but whether in shock he spoke English or his words, she couldn’t be certain. She shook her head, her brain not working properly. He moved to stroke her face but she jerked out of his reach.

  “Come with me. I protect you.” He insisted moving closer. The smell of his breath combined with whatever he used to make his skin glisten, made her stomach heave. She pushed him away just in time to prevent her vomit covering him. He kicked the ground in disgust.

  “You shouldn’t have done that. You embarrassed him in front of the whole village.” Broken Wing’s words seeped into Tilly’s brain as she tried to quell her stomach.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. But he made me drink from his hands and the smell…” Tilly’s nose wrinkled as her stomach heaved once more. But there was nothing left inside. She dry heaved for a couple of minutes before Broken Wing seemed to take pity on her. Taking a jug, she gathered some clean water which she gave to Tilly to drink. Then she handed her a cloth miming she should wash her face and mouth.

  “Thank you,” Tilly said quietly.

  “Red Feather is a kind man. He would be a good husband,” Broken Wing said, her eyes teasing.

  Tilly wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She had to get out of here and back to civilization. “I am not staying here never mind marrying an Indian. What do you take me for?”

  “Someone who acts hastily without thinking,” said Broken Wing, her disapproval evident. She looked at Tilly sternly making the younger woman feel more uncomfortable. “You should consider your circumstances. Men surround you yet you walk around like a woman of easy virtue. Indian maidens would never behave this way.”

  “I was thirsty and went to get a drink. I didn’t anticipate a marriage proposal.” Tilly knew she had spoken sharply but the other woman’s condemnation had hurt.

  “I told you to stay in the lodge. You are safe here provided you do what you are told,” Broken Wing responded just as sharply.

  Fed up with being found wanting, Tilly decided to take a stand.

  “I demand you take me to your Chief. He must release us at once.”

  Broken Wing eyed her sadly. “My Chief cannot do that.”

  “Oh, he will. Let me speak to him.” Tilly moderated her tone. “Please.”

  Broken Wing looked at her sadly. “Your family must be worried about you and your young friend.”

  Tilly didn’t comment. She wasn’t about to admit nobody cared whether herself or Fiona returned or not. She wrapped her arms around her body, watching Broken Wing closely as they moved back into the lodge. The Indian gently woke Fiona. This strange woman, half Indian, half something else had shown more care for Fiona and, if she was truthful, herself, than any other adult Tilly had known. She sniffed not wanting to show weakness by crying. It was pointless feeling sorry for herself. She had to get them both out of the camp and back to real life.

  As they left the lodge heading toward the Chief, Tilly looked closely at the Indians. The women wore dresses made from some sort of animal covering. They stared at herself and Fiona, their gazes curious rather than unfriendly. They didn’t make any attempt to speak. They appeared to be doing most of the work, not just preparing food but collecting firewood and two were fixing their lodge. She noted they moved in twos and threes, didn’t wander alone as Broken Wing had said. Maybe her walk to get a drink had been a bad idea after all.

  Then her gaze wandered over to the men. They all wore buckskin pants but their chests were bare save from some beaded necklaces. None had paint on their faces, yet they didn’t look like the Indians she had seen in the forts. Those had a look of despair about them but these ones, despite looking thinner, sat up proudly. They had a defiant air about them, not threatening but leaving Tilly in no doubt they would fight to the last to protect what they considered theirs.

  Fiona edged closer to Tilly, taking her hand as they walked in line behind Broken Wing. The Indian woman spoke rapidly to an older man with an air of authority about him and then pushed Tilly and Fiona forward. “Speak slowly and with respect,” she warned the girls.

  Fiona nodded mutely but Tilly ignored the warning. Instead, she walked right up to the Chief.

  “I demand you take us to the nearest white town. Now.” Tilly used the tone her mother had adopted when speaking to servants.

  The Chief’s eyes widened but before he could say anything, one of his braves stepped forward. He made to pull Tilly back but she rounded on him and slapped him hard. He was going to return the slap but the Chief spoke sharply. Then he turned his attention to Tilly.

  “You must stop using violence in my camp. I do not like it.”
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  Shocked he spoke English, Tilly retaliated by speaking sharply. “I don’t like to be manhandled. If your men don’t put their hands on me I won't hit them.” Tilly believed she was being perfectly reasonable even if Fiona groaned behind her.

  “Tilly, you need to be nicer. Having an attitude with the Chief isn’t going to help,” Fiona whispered but her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Are you intent on fighting your way out of my camp?”

  The Chief’s question surprised Tilly.

  “Yes, if I have to.” She answered thinking she was stating the obvious.

  The Chief signaled and two Braves stepped forward. One grabbed Tilly's arms and forced them in front of her while another tied them tight.

  “What are you doing? Release me at once.” Tilly protested, aiming a kick at the two Braves.

  An Indian standing to one side said something and everyone laughed. Tilly glared at him before turning her attention back to the Chief.

  “What did he say?”

  “He says you are like fire. Nice to look at, hot to touch. He wouldn't mind you in his bed,” the Chief replied giving her a disdainful look.

  Tilly's mouth opened and closed. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Tilly, shut up. Everything you say makes things worse,” Fiona whispered. “Apologize.”

  “I will not apologize. I haven't done anything wrong,” Tilly protested hotly.

  “You should listen to your friend. She is smart. You have a lot to learn.” The Chief turned to Broken Wing and spoke quickly. She nodded in response, a sad expression in her eyes. Then she moved to the girls.

  “Come, follow me.”

  Fiona moved to follow but Tilly wouldn’t. “Wait, where are you going?” When Broken Wing didn’t answer, Tilly turned back to the Chief. “I insist you set us free.”

  The Chief glared at her while Broken Wing hurried back to her side, taking Tilly’s arm in hers and pulling her away forcibly.