Amanda’s thoughts turned to her mother and how she had died giving birth to Amanda. Papa had never remarried or shown any interest in another woman. He’d been devoted to Amanda since her birth, twenty-two years ago, and had made sure, under the tutorage of her aunt Dorothy, that she learned to cook, clean, and sew. Papa had told Amanda on more than one occasion that he wanted her to learn all these things, not just to provide for their needs, but so she could be a good wife someday.
Amanda wished she’d had the opportunity to meet her mother and get to know her, the way Papa had for the first four years they were married. But that was not to be. Papa had said Amanda got her beautiful flaxen-colored hair from Mama, but her blue eyes came from him. The only things Amanda knew about her mother were what Papa had told her. So in a sense, she did know her mother a little bit, although it wasn’t the same as if she’d been alive during Amanda’s childhood.
She cringed. Thinking about Papa’s marriage had drawn her thoughts back to Nathan. Had he and Penelope gotten married yet? If Nathan truly loved Penelope, then he surely would have made Penelope his wife by now. Nathan Lane! Would she ever quit thinking of him?
“Oh!”
At the sound of her father’s cry, Amanda leaped to her feet and rushed to his side. “Papa, what is it?”
Papa’s thin lips contorted as he pointed to his chest. “It—it hurts, right here.”
“I shall get Harvey.” Amanda, fearing the worst, started to turn, but his desperate plea stopped her from going after their guide.
“No! I must tell thee something,” Papa said, looking up at Amanda through glassy eyes.
Amanda went down on her knees beside him. “What is it, Papa?”
He blinked several times, as though trying to focus his thoughts. “Give me thy word.”
“My word on what, Papa?”
“Promise thou wilt go and teach the Indians about God.”
She placed her hand gently on his arm. “Of course, Papa. We shall both go and preach the Good News.”
Papa clutched his chest. “I should have told thee before but knew if I did, thou wouldst not have made this worthy trip.”
A sense of fear coursed through Amanda. She could barely breathe. “What hast thou not told me?”
“My heart is failing. The doctor confirmed what I already suspected when I went to see him before we left home.” He reached out a trembling hand and with shaky fingers stroked her cheek. “I need thy word that if I don’t make it, thou wilt go on alone.”
Tears sprang to Amanda’s eyes as she gripped her father’s cold hand. “No, Papa! No, I cannot!”
“Thou must,” he implored. “The Lord told me in a dream that this is His will for thee. There is nothing for thee in New York. Thy future lies in the west—among the Nez Percé people, and …” Papa’s words were halted as he drew in a shuddering breath. “My work is done here on earth, Amanda. It—it is time for me to be reunited with thy mother.”
“No, Papa, not yet!” Amanda clutched his arm, willing him to hang on. “I need thee. I cannot go on without thee.”
“Thou must. Promise me this, Amanda. I beg thee to give me thy word.”
Amanda nodded slowly as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Yes, Papa, I will go.”
Her words seemed to offer the comfort he needed, for he smiled slightly, and then his head fell forward onto his well-worn Bible.
“Papa! Papa!” Amanda screamed.
No response.
She placed her hand under his nose, but there was no breath. She felt no heartbeat in his chest. “No, Papa! No!” Despite her denial, Amanda knew her father was gone. What she didn’t know was how she would go on without him.
CHAPTER 2
Amanda sobbed as she watched while Harvey dug a shallow grave in an area outside their camp and then placed her father’s body within it. As the sound of the digging echoed in her ears, she still couldn’t comprehend that Papa was gone. He just can’t be dead, Amanda told herself over and over again. It had to be a horrible nightmare that she would wake up from in the morning, and they would continue their journey west. But with each shovel of dirt that covered the grave, Amanda began to face reality. Papa’s heart had given out on him. The trip had been too much, and it was her fault. If only she hadn’t decided to embark on this journey, Papa would still be alive. Or would he? Is it possible that Papa would have died even if we’d stayed in New York? If his heart was weak, Papa might not have survived no matter where we lived.
“Would ya like to say a few words over your pa before we bed down for the night?” Harvey asked, jolting Amanda’s thoughts.
“What? Umm … Yes, I … I need to do that,” she said, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain her composure. She glanced at the log where Papa’s Bible lay and knew she ought to read some scripture. But before she could make a move, Harvey, as though reading her thoughts, went to get it.
When he returned, he handed her the well-worn Bible and said, “I ain’t no religious fella, but even I know that a man like your pap deserves a Christian burial.”
Amanda managed a quick nod, and with trembling fingers, she opened her father’s Bible and read from the twenty-third Psalm: “ ‘The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ ” Amanda paused and drew in a shaky breath. She was sure that Papa hadn’t been afraid of death, for he had died so peacefully. The Lord had been with Papa, offering comfort as he passed from this earth.
Now, as she stood looking at the fresh mound of dirt, she consoled herself with the knowledge that her father was no longer in pain and that he and Mama, after all these years, were finally together again.
“ ‘Thou preparest a table before me,’ ” she continued to read, as emotion clogged her throat, “ ‘in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.’ ”
Amanda closed the Bible, bowed her head, and prayed a simple prayer: “Heavenly Father, we commend my father’s spirit into Thy hands. I thank Thee for the short time I had with Papa. Now, I ask Thee to give me strength to go on without him. Amen.”
Amanda thought about her mother’s engraved head-stone, nestled between two maple trees in the graveyard behind their meeting place back home. Papa should have been buried there by her side. He, too, ought to have a nice headstone. But then, she reminded herself, Papa’s spirit is not here—only his body, which will soon become one with the earth. Knowing her father as well as she did, Amanda didn’t think he would mind that his place of burial had no marker.
Tears coursed down Amanda’s cheeks as she moved away from the grave and headed back to their camp. It hadn’t really been a proper service; at least not proper enough for a man like Papa. But under the circumstances, it was the best she could do. As difficult as it would be, Amanda knew she must keep her promise to Papa. She would go to Oregon Territory and share the Word of God with the Nez Percé Indians.
When Amanda awoke the following morning, she felt groggy and disoriented. She’d had a horrible dream and hadn’t slept well. Glancing across the lean-to, to see if her father was awake, she frowned. He wasn’t there, and neither was his sleeping mat. Maybe he’d rolled up his bedding and gone down to the stream to wash up. Yes, she was sure that must be the case.
Amanda yawned and rubbed her eyes. She needed to get up and fix breakfast so they could be on their way. After she’d stepped out from under the lean-to, she spotted Harvey, poking at the smoldering embers of the fire.
“Were ya able to get any sleep last night, missy?” he asked when she approached him a few minutes later.
“I did sleep some, but it was a restless kind of sleep. I had a horrible nightmare,” she replied, pulling her arms back to get the kinks out of her limbs.
“That’s understandable, under the circumstances and all,” he said, rubbing one finger down the side of his slightly crooked nose.
“Where is my father?” Amanda asked. “Is he down at the stream washing up?”
Harvey squinted his beady brown eyes. “What was that?”
“I said…. Oh, never mind. I need to go there myself, so I’ll talk to him then.” Amanda hurried off toward the stream. She heard Harvey call her name but kept going. She felt a desperate need to talk to Papa. Yesterday he’d looked awfully tired, and she’d been worried about him.
When Amanda arrived at the stream, Papa wasn’t there. Where in the world could he be?
She turned and studied the surrounding area, searching desperately for any sign of her father. Then, as she moved back toward their camp, her gaze fell on a mound of dirt. Two sticks tied together to form a small cross had been stuck in the ground at the head of the mound. A cold chill swept over Amanda as reality set it. Beneath this ugly mound of dirt lay Papa’s body. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Her beloved father had died last night, and she had read scripture over his newly dug grave.
Amanda dropped to her knees and wailed, “Dear Lord, why didst Thou take my father?”
“Missy, ya ain’t doin’ no good fer yourself like this,” Harvey said, placing his hand on her trembling shoulder.
She looked up at him through a veil of tears, surprised not only by the gentleness in his tone, but also that he had followed her here to the gravesite. Harvey hadn’t been this nice or spoken so kindly to her since they’d left Fort Laramie.
“Come on over and get yourself warmed up,” Harvey said, motioning to the fire he’d started. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had some hot coffee.”
Amanda shook her head. “I do not drink coffee, sir.”
“Well, it’s all I got, and it’ll warm ya from the inside, while the fire takes the early mornin’ chill outta your bones.” Harvey extended his hand. “Come now, missy. It ain’t doin’ a thing for ya to stay here like this.”
Dazed, Amanda took his calloused hand and rose to her feet. She followed him silently back to the camp.
“Why don’t ya take a seat over there?” Harvey motioned to a log near the fire. “Once we’ve had ourselves somethin’ to eat, we’ll clear up the camp, load up Jake and Jasper, and start back for the fort.”
“You mean, Fort Laramie?” she asked, tipping her head as she looked up at him.
He gave a quick nod. “We’re only a full day out, so I can easily take ya back.”
“Oh no.” Amanda shook her head determinedly. “I have already come a long way, and my father hired thee to take us to the Spalding Mission, so that is where I plan to go.”
“Well, if ya do, you’ll be goin’ without me,” Harvey said, narrowing his gaze. “I ain’t takin’ no lady that far by myself.”
“Why not?”
“ ’Cause it wouldn’t be right. Besides, I never did think it was a good idea for a sickly looking old man and a little slip of a lady, who looks like she might break, to be goin’ on no trek through the wilderness with some dumb idea about preachin’ to the red-skin people.”
Amanda squared her shoulders and stared up at Harvey with a renewed sense of determination. “For thy information, Mr. Hanson, I am not as fragile as I may appear. I’m a hard worker with a determined spirit, and I won’t go back on the promise I made to my father.”
“What promise was that?”
“Before Papa died, he asked me to continue the journey west to minister to the Nez Percé Indians.” She clasped her hands tightly, as though in prayer. “With or without thee, I intend to keep that promise.”
Harvey tipped his head back and laughed. “You’re sure a feisty one, I’ll give ya that much.”
She made no comment, feeling anything but feisty.
Harvey shook his head and muttered, “Women! They’re impossible creatures to figure out.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re either very brave or just plain dumb to all the trials that could come upon us along the way,” Harvey said sarcastically.
Amanda folded her arms in an unyielding pose. “I am neither of those, sir. I am a woman of faith who is trusting in the Lord to give her courage.”
Harvey spat on the ground. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. Now wilt thou continue to act as my guide?”
Harvey broke a branch off a nearby tree, snapped it in half, and tossed it on the fire. “I may be loco for agreein’ to this, but yeah, I’ll see that you get to where ya wanna go.”
Amanda smiled. “I thank thee for that.”
Amanda reached up a slender hand to shield her eyes against the glare of the harsh afternoon sun, while clucking to her horse. “Slow down, Betsy. Thou art going much too fast.”
“She’s jest followin’ my lead,” Harvey called over his shoulder. “Hang on tight to the saddle.”
“That is what I am trying to do,” Amanda said breathlessly. “It’s hard to stay on the horse when I’m sitting sideways like this.” She bit her lip out of frustration, while opening and closing her stiff fingers. She would never admit it to Harvey, but she really wasn’t cut out for this. What made me believe I could make a journey of this sort when I know so little about survival in the wilderness? Amanda wondered.
The words of Ephesians 6:10 ran through her mind: Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. A renewed sense of purpose welled in Amanda’s chest. I can do this. With God’s help I can do whatever He asks me to do.
“We can remedy your situation real quick,” Harvey announced. He halted his horse, and the pack mules stopped behind him.
Amanda pulled her horse up, too. “Why are we stopping, Mr. Hanson?”
“I want ya to put on a pair of your pa’s trousers, and then you’re gonna ride that horse like a man,” he said, dismounting.
Amanda gasped. “Dost thou expect me to wear men’s clothes?”
“That’s right, and I wish you’d stop theein’ and thouin’ all over the place. Can’t ya jest talk like a normal person?”
“I am a ‘normal’ person,” Amanda replied tersely as she slid off her horse. “And I would appreciate it if thou wouldst not speak to me in that manner.”
Harvey lifted his hand. “Hold your britches, little lady; I meant no offense. It’s just hard to understand when ya talk thataway.”
“It is how we Quakers who attend the Friends’ church speak,” she said, trying not to sound so defensive this time.
“That’s all well and good, but there ain’t no Friends’ church around here, and I’d be much obliged if you’d say you instead of thee when you’re speakin’ to me.”
Amanda wasn’t sure she could abide by that request, as it simply wouldn’t sound right to her. But rather than start a disagreement, she nodded and said, “I shall try.”
Harvey grinned; then he pointed to her father’s valise. “When ya find some trousers you can go behind one of them trees and change. In the meantime, I’ll put your pa’s saddle on your horse, and we’ll leave the sidesaddle here on the trail ’cause ya won’t be needin’ it again.”
Amanda groaned inwardly. This man surely liked to give orders. Well, as much as she hated to admit it, perhaps wearing Papa’s trousers would be a good idea. It would mean she could sit a little easier on the horse, and it might keep her legs from getting so chafed. She wouldn’t, however, remove her skirt. She would simply put Papa’s trousers on underneath.
CHAPTER 3
As Amanda and Harvey mounted their horses the following day, the sunlight filtered through the tree branches overhead, casting rays of misty splendor. Amanda winced, despite the beautiful morning. A few more days in the saddle and she was certain she’d be permanently crippled. She thought by now that she’d be used to it, but even wearing Papa’s trousers and sitting in a regular saddle hadn’t helped that much. She was beginning to feel a sense of bitterness about this tr
ip and the inconvenience of sleeping on the ground every night. Riding on the back of a horse that wouldn’t listen to her for hours on end didn’t help, either. There were times when Amanda wanted to throttle the mare, and more often than not, she would end up hollering, “Slow down, Betsy!” or “Get going, Betsy!” The sturdy quarter horse, with a medium brown coat and a white patch between her eyes, definitely had a mind of her own. It was enough to test Amanda’s patience.
How can I minister to the Indians if I continue to feel this way? Amanda asked herself. Perhaps I should have turned back when Papa died. She clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders. If I’d gone back, it would have been admitting defeat, and I am not a quitter.
“You’d better stay alert, and keep that horse of yours right beside me,” Harvey warned. “We’re travelin’ through Blackfoot territory now, and I aim to be extra careful.”
“Didn’t thou sayest the Blackfeet can be quite hostile?” Amanda asked with a tremor in her voice.
“Ya got that right, missy,” Harvey replied. “Some of ’em go to the tradin’ posts and Rendezvous to barter and trade their goods, but there ain’t a one of ’em that I’d trust as far as I could throw ’em. They’re not like some of the other tribes that are a mite friendlier.”
Amanda swallowed hard and gripped Betsy’s reins. “Why are they called ‘Blackfeet’?”
“I’ve heard that it’s ’cause of the dark moccasins they wear on their feet,” he replied.
“Dost thou think we will see any Blackfeet, Mr. Hanson?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, and I don’t rightly know if we’ll see any Injuns, but I’ll be ready for ’em if we do.”
“Ready? What dost thou mean?” she asked with a feeling of trepidation.
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