Adam gave her a rare smile. “It was quite an ordeal.”
“And one I find unpleasant to remember, so if we could just forget about it, I’d be even more grateful.”
His forehead wrinkled as his brows knit together for a moment. It looked for all the world as if he were hurt or upset by her comment, but Mercy saw no reason for that. Men were such strange creatures. Their way of reasoning through matters always seemed the complete opposite of a woman’s.
Mercy squared her shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do before I can retire.”
She continued toward the house and breathed a sigh of relief when Adam offered no further comment. Hopefully the entire matter could be swept under the rug and forgotten. But even as Mercy hoped for that, she remembered the feeling of Adam’s arms around her. His face just inches from her own.
On the first Sunday in December, after leading their little village in church services, Adam and Isaac took off for another Tututni village some miles upriver. Adam knew Isaac was concerned about the people of that gathering. The men there were far more given to conflict, and he wanted to speak to them about keeping the peace. Perhaps even moving closer to the mission. At the meeting in the sweathouse, Isaac had learned from some of the Tututni men that there was trouble building. The Tututni warriors were tired of the whites falsely accusing them of everything from thievery to murder.
As they paddled their small canoe against the current, Adam thought about the conflict going on all around them. They wouldn’t be able to keep it out of their own village much longer. The men there were related to many of the Tututni living elsewhere. They had sisters and children who married into other villages and were concerned they were in danger.
“I think Mercy is fitting in nicely, don’t you?” Isaac said after they’d traveled in silence most of the trip.
The memory of Mercy in his arms flashed through Adam’s mind. She’d told him it was an unpleasant experience, but it certainly hadn’t been for him. “She seems to be. I have to admit she’s far less concerned about her surroundings than most white women.”
“Eletta is doing so much better that I would be happy to have ten of Mercy living with us if it kept my sweet wife feeling good.”
Adam laughed. “I don’t know that we could manage ten of her. Mercy has a feisty streak.”
“Noticed that, did you?” Isaac looked over his shoulder at Adam. “I’m betting you noticed how pretty she is too.”
Adam looked away, which only made Isaac laugh.
“She’s very pretty,” Isaac said. “No need to deny that.”
“I wasn’t going to.” But neither did he intend to admit it.
“She and her sisters are all beauties. I was surprised to hear that Mercy hadn’t married. Happy for it, since it allowed her to come here, but surprised all the same. She had more than her fair share of attention on our trip down from Port Orford. The soldiers treated her like royalty. Billy Caxton had more than a passing interest in her. I did what I could to nip that in the bud, but he’s a persistent sort. I’m surprised he hasn’t come around.”
Adam knew only too well how persistent Billy could be. When he set his mind to something, he usually saw it to completion no matter the cost. Adam had seen him in action in trade and also in matters of revenge.
“But I was less worried once Mercy put him on his backside.”
“What?” Adam asked, then wished he hadn’t when Isaac chuckled.
“Thought that would get your attention. He was trying to woo her and said something that she didn’t like. She gave him a push, and he landed smack on the ground. That’ll teach him to be more cautious. She isn’t a woman to be trifled with.”
Adam smiled at the thought. If anyone deserved to be knocked down a peg, it was Billy. And he had no doubt that Mercy was more than capable of defending herself. She showed no signs of being a dainty, spoiled girl who expected others to look after her.
“What’s that in the water?” Isaac asked.
Adam strained to look around him. “Where?”
“Up ahead. It looks like clothing.”
They paddled a little faster, and as they neared, they could see that it wasn’t just clothing, but a body. Isaac and Adam worked together to pull the body of a young Tututni man into the canoe. He was hardly more than a boy.
“It’s Red Sun. He’s been shot.” Isaac pushed back the young man’s shirt. “Several times, from the look of it.”
Adam glanced upriver toward the bank. The village wasn’t far. The silence filled him with dread. Even on Sundays, the sound of children playing and other activities would fill the air.
“The village has been attacked.”
Isaac picked up his paddle. “Let’s go.”
They fought the current to regain the ground they’d lost. It wasn’t long before they were dragging the boat onto the shore. They raced up the bank, and only when they reached the top did Adam realize that the attackers might still be in the area.
But he needn’t have worried. Dead bodies were strewn across the open ground, and most of the houses had been burned and were still smoldering. There wasn’t a single sign of life.
“They weren’t attacked by another tribe,” Isaac said as they began to inspect closer.
“No. I’m sure it was the volunteers or the army.” Adam had been certain of that when he’d first seen Red Sun’s wounds. “Probably Billy’s group, since they aren’t all that far from here.”
They moved in the cold, eerie silence, checking each body. All had been shot, and some were even mutilated.
“This was senseless,” Isaac said. “There’s no sign the Tututni knew an attack was imminent.”
“Perhaps they were duped.” Adam doubted they had been taken by surprise. The Indians were much better at being aware of their surroundings and the threats of attack than the whites. But he could imagine some of the militiamen coming in the pretense of peace and then opening fire on everyone. It wouldn’t take very many men or guns to cut down defenseless people.
“I don’t see . . .” Isaac fell silent and raised his hand, signaling Adam to do the same.
Both men listened for a moment. The muted sound of a baby’s whimper could be heard across the clearing. Isaac headed toward one of the few unburned houses, and Adam followed. They made their way inside. The whimper had been silenced, but Adam was certain it had come from this lodge.
Isaac called out in Tututni. “We’re here to help. Please come out. It’s Brother Isaac.”
A woman peeked around a stack of tule mats and baskets. “Brother Isaac?” She barely whispered the words.
Isaac and Adam moved quickly to her side and pulled the baskets away to reveal the injured woman and her baby. Adam lifted the young woman in his arms and carried her outside, while Isaac followed with the baby.
Adam placed her on the ground. “What happened?”
“Men came. White men—in the night,” she explained. “They hit me with the end of their gun.”
Isaac assessed her injury. He handed the baby to the frightened woman and then took out his handkerchief and canteen. He dampened the cloth as he bent to clean the gash across her forehead.
“This cut isn’t too bad,” Isaac told her in Tututni. “And the baby looks unharmed. The blood on the infant is yours.”
She winced as Isaac continued cleaning. “There was no warning. The men keeping watch gave no alarm.”
“No doubt they were killed first,” Isaac replied, glancing up at Adam.
Adam looked around. “Do you suppose any of the attackers are still around?”
Isaac shook his head. “I doubt it. Even though they’d get no chastisement from the government for this heinous act, they’d still be concerned about other Indians.”
The woman looked around and for the first time began to weep. “My family is dead. My husband and mother. My children except for this one.” She hugged the baby close, but motioned with her head. “My husband tried to save them.”
Adam realized most of the men who lay dead were old. “Where are the other men—the younger ones?” he asked the woman.
“There was much fighting in the trees.” She pointed in the direction of the forested area behind them. “Our men tried to lure the white men away from the village. My husband was trying to get our boys to safety.” She shook her head. “I tried to help, but a man hit me, and I fell. After that I ran to hide with my baby.” She looked around at the bodies and sobbed. “They are all dead.”
Isaac put an arm around her shoulders, and the baby began to cry in earnest. “Adam, get her down to the canoe. I’m going to check the trees and see if anyone else is still alive.”
Adam took the woman’s arm and led her down the path to the river. She continued crying even while trying to soothe her child.
Without speaking a word, Adam helped her down the bank and into the canoe. He pulled a blanket from his pack and carefully wrapped it around her and the baby to ward off the cold. He glanced skyward. Thick rain clouds had moved in to blot out the sun. They’d be lucky if it didn’t pour rain before they made it back to the mission.
He glanced down at the woman and her baby. “You’re safe now.” The Tututni woman looked up at him with an expression of gratitude and fear. Adam smiled. “We’ll take you to the mission, and the Tututni there will care for you.” She seemed comforted by him speaking her language and nodded.
It wasn’t long before Isaac returned. “They’re all dead. The attackers left them where they lay, but since I found no whites, I presume they took their own injured and dead back with them when they left.”
Adam nodded. “We should bury them.”
Isaac glanced wearily up the bank. “I think it’d be better to get back to our own camp. I don’t trust the militia not to attack the mission. We’ll tell the men there what happened. I’m sure they’ll arrange for burial.”
Adam hadn’t even considered the possibility of the militia attacking the mission village. Images of Billy Caxton and his companions came to mind. Adam felt certain he was responsible for this extermination. Billy had no respect for life. Especially not Indian lives. The very thought of him attacking again caused a chill to run up Adam’s spine.
He picked up his paddle. “I think you’re right.”
Chapter
9
It wasn’t long after learning what had happened at the upriver village that Eletta began spotting blood. Grace had tried to prepare Mercy for every possibility, including this one, so it didn’t come as too much of a surprise. Just a disappointment. Since Eletta had been doing so well, Mercy had hoped the worst was behind her. Of course, no one had expected the attack so close to the mission.
“It’s probably best that you stay in bed except to relieve yourself.” Mercy tried to sound encouraging. “It’s just a precaution.”
Eletta’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so frightened. I try to pray, but my grief gets in the way.”
Mercy sat on the edge of the bed and took Eletta’s hand. “I know.” They had talked quite a bit about what happened at the other village. It was a grave concern to Mercy as well, but she couldn’t let on.
“I keep thinking about those poor people, and then I think about this baby and how I still might lose it.”
“But you mustn’t dwell on those things. It isn’t healthy for you or the baby.” Mercy squeezed her hand. “Think on lovely things, as the Bible says. Let’s talk about Faith. Did she really learn to read at the age of two?”
Eletta drew in a deep breath and nodded. “She’s so smart. I’ve taught her many things, and she’s good at the ones that strike her fancy. If she doesn’t like something, however, I’m hard-pressed to get her to work on it.”
Mercy laughed. “I asked her about spinning, but she wasn’t all that interested.”
“No, and she isn’t fond of crocheting or knitting either, but I keep reminding her that a proper wife will need to know all of those things in order to clothe her family.”
“I’m very impressed with her writing. She’s quite the storyteller. She’s written pages and pages about her life here with the Tututni.”
“I’ve encouraged her to keep a journal, as I do.”
“I know. She let me read some of it. She’s very observant. Keen on the details.”
Eletta relaxed a bit and smiled. “She is. She always sees things that I don’t. From the time she was little, she seemed to have an understanding that went beyond the normal expectations of a child.”
“I’m amazed that she speaks English and Tututni with equal ease. I still stumble over the Tututni words, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to master them.”
“Writing them is even harder,” Eletta admitted. “In English, we sound things out phonetically, but the Tututni language isn’t that way. Some of the sounds are nothing like the written form. They use marks and symbols that we don’t use in our alphabet.”
Mercy nodded and let go of Eletta’s hand. It was good to see her thinking about something else. “I’ve seen some of it. I had the children write their Tututni name and then their English name side by side. It was an interesting exercise.”
“Mama?” Faith bounded into the room. “See what I made?” She held up her Tututni hat. It was a tightly woven pattern of various colors.
“It’s beautiful,” Eletta said. “Come closer so I can inspect it.”
“I’ll get on with my chores.” Mercy got to her feet and smiled at Faith. “I’ll count on you to be here for your mama while I get the laundry off the line and tend to a few other things. Later you can help me iron the clothes.”
Faith jumped up on the bed next to her mother and gave Mercy a smile. “I like to iron when it’s cold.”
“Me too.”
“Take your time, Mercy. I want to speak to Faith about a few things.” Eletta looked at her daughter and smiled. “It seems there’s never enough time.”
Her comment cast a bit of melancholy over the moment. Mercy nodded and did her best not to frown. “If you need anything, just have Faith get it or have her fetch me. You are not to get out of that bed.”
She didn’t wait for Eletta’s response. She made her way into the kitchen and checked the sourdough bread in the oven. It was golden brown. She pulled out all four loaves and placed them on the counter. By the time she returned from the clothesline with the laundry, they hopefully would have cooled enough to cut.
Mercy pulled on her coat, then picked up the laundry basket. It was another Tututni creation, with thin, pliable branches woven to create a circular container. The weave on this basket wasn’t very tight, but for laundry there was no need.
The clothesline was just behind the house and consisted of nothing more than a string tied between two small trees. It wasn’t as nice as the ones Alex and Lance had built for them at the farm, but it did the job.
Mercy placed the basket on the ground and felt one of Isaac’s shirts. The damp weather hadn’t allowed the clothes to dry completely, but that was to be expected. She took them down nevertheless. She would hang them up in the cabin and then iron them dry. She looked around as she tended to the laundry. There was hardly anyone to be seen. Everyone was subdued by last week’s news of the attack. Many of the people there had been related to people in the mission village, and the sorrow was overwhelming.
Mercy had done her best to avoid discussing the attack. The details she’d heard from Isaac and Adam were enough to give her nightmares. She couldn’t help but recall her days at the Whitman Mission and the massacre.
She spied the young mother who had survived and come back to the village with Adam and Isaac. She was a distant relative to Bright Star, and as such, Bright Star’s son had taken her into his house and married her. In the Tututni tribe, if a man had wealth, he could take more than one wife. Mercy wond
ered if that met with the woman’s approval, since she’d just lost her husband and sons. How terrible it would be to have no time for mourning your husband, but instead have to go right into an intimate relationship with another man. Mercy couldn’t bear the idea. But she wasn’t sure the Tututni women had much say in such things.
Leaving the basket of clothes by the cabin, Mercy decided to take a short walk to clear her mind and pray. Eletta wanted some time alone with Faith anyway, and a few moments of quiet would do Mercy good. She’d been so worried about Eletta and the possibility of an attack on the village that she hadn’t had much time to herself.
She walked across the open grounds and past the field where the boys had played shinny. Adam came to mind. In some ways she’d been much too hard on him. It wasn’t right to punish him just because he wasn’t given to sharing his thoughts with her. And his apprehensive attitude toward her abilities had proven unfounded, so he had been a little friendlier lately. Not much, but a little, and that was a move in the right direction.
When she’d first come here, Mercy had been more concerned with being able to care for Eletta’s needs than befriending her brother-in-law. When Eletta improved, Mercy had been confident that all would be well and Grace’s cures would do the trick. Now, with this new round of problems, Mercy was more than a little worried. Bleeding during a pregnancy was never good.
She sat on the same log Adam had knocked her off of and smiled. It wasn’t such an embarrassing memory now, and she wished she’d handled the entire matter differently.
The tall pines and oaks at her back rustled as the breeze picked up, and Mercy hugged her arms to her body. Glancing heavenward, she began to pray in silence. She could feel God all around her, and it seemed only right to praise Him.
Thank You for Your kindness, Lord. Thank You for Your fairness, generosity, and righteousness. You alone are worthy of such praise.
She closed her eyes and let the stillness of the moment wash over her. God had been so good to her. He had always been there for her in the best and worst of times. When she’d lost her father, the pain had been intense, but losing her mother had been devastating. She had tried to find comfort in her sisters, but they were too overwhelmed with their own grief to be much help. Mercy had turned to God and found His presence so notable that it was almost as if she could feel His embrace. The same had been true at the Whitman Mission.
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