“We have?” Priscilla peered over the rolling hills. Nothing had changed. The same dry brush and dusty earth stretched before them. This was it? The history-making moment? The event Mother had believed would make her the most important woman of her generation? Had she and Mabel truly now become the first white women to travel overland this far west?
Mabel threw her arms around Priscilla and squeezed her in a hug. “Congratulations, my dear.”
David squealed with delight.
Priscilla pulled back. “This is it? Really? I thought the Continental Divide would be high in the Rocky Mountains, in some narrow, snowy pass.”
Mabel chuckled. “Believe it or not, this is it. When the trappers discovered this low valley through the Rockies, it was a miracle crossing compared to the dangerous passes they’d had to travel previously.”
Priscilla took a deep breath of the hot, dry air and let her gaze drift with growing satisfaction. Far in the distance to the north and the south, the hills of the Rocky Mountains rose up. “We’re indeed getting the adventure of a lifetime, aren’t we, Sister Spalding?”
For a long moment they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing to the west. Priscilla slipped her arm through Mabel’s. “I couldn’t have asked the Lord for a better woman to share these adventures with.”
Mabel patted her hand. “Me either, dear.”
Henry motioned to them. “Let’s gather together for a prayer. On this fourth day of July, we have much for which to give thanks.”
Priscilla joined the circle and found herself jostled next to Eli. He grinned like the others, and for the first time, his forehead was void of the anxious grooves that had cut deeper with each step of their journey.
Every day brought them nearer to the Green River and the Rendezvous. They were close enough that two days ago Captain Fitzpatrick had sent out a man to ride ahead of them and alert the camp that they were almost there.
Of course, the Green River Valley was only their halfway point in the overland part of the journey. There they would meet Samuel Parker, who would lead them the rest of the way, with the hope of guiding them into Oregon Country by September, before the mountain passes in eastern Oregon became impassable with the first snowfall.
Even so, with all the obstacles they’d overcome so far, she didn’t begrudge Eli his joy. If not for his hard work and determination, they wouldn’t have made it nearly as far as they had.
Mabel intertwined her hand with Henry’s and gave him a wide smile. Henry returned the smile.
Priscilla’s heart pinched with a shard of jealousy. It wasn’t that she wished she was married to Henry. Compared to the rugged, vibrant Eli, Henry was only a shadow. Rather, she was envious of Henry’s relationship with Mabel—the way he showered her with affection. She wished that Eli might do the same with her.
She glanced sideways at Eli, to the excitement sparkling in his eyes, knowing he was thinking of the mission and the plans he had for it. If only she could share the excitement of the moment with him, hold his hand, and have him direct one of his smiles at her.
“Let’s bow our heads,” Henry said, taking off his hat.
Eli and the other men followed suit.
And she swallowed her longings, reprimanding herself. She would only get hurt again if she didn’t guard her heart more carefully.
Eli sank his teeth into the juicy flesh of the roasted prairie hen and savored the sweet tenderness, a fine change from the endless days of buffalo meat.
The first shadows of twilight had settled over their camp, and he rested his back against a crate.
They’d made good progress out of South Pass after crossing over the Continental Divide. Only twenty miles later they’d found a fertile camp along the Pacific Springs. From now on, all the rivers would flow west, leading them to their new home and eventually to the Pacific Ocean.
He let his gaze linger upon the wide open sky and the peaks of the Wind River Mountain Range on the horizon. The majesty of it was a feast to his hungry soul. Anticipation burned through him. Each day brought them one step closer to the West and the Nez Perce. If they continued to make good timing, he’d be able to get a home built before winter and make a room for a clinic.
Of course he planned to visit the Nez Perce at their winter camps too. But he already had sketched a diagram of the house in his mind. Nothing fancy. But still a place where he could meet with the Indians.
He took a deep breath of the warm, smoky air. The chatter of the others around the campfire was soft, almost as if everyone was overcome with the same awe.
Priscilla spoke in hushed tones with Mabel, drinking in the view of the mountains in the distance. The sparkle in her eyes reflected the exhilaration rushing through his blood.
As much as he wanted to deny his longing, he couldn’t. He wanted to sit next to her and share the thrilling moment together. He’d worked to keep his distance, but he missed hearing her curious questions and seeing the wonder in her face at each new stretch of their journey.
He tore another chunk of meat from the bone.
Suddenly the distant whoop of Indian cries and the crack of gunfire echoed in the evening air.
Eli scrambled to his feet and grabbed his rifle. His heart slammed into his ribs. Were the Blackfeet attacking? They were a vicious, warring tribe that inhabited the area to the north. Trappers captured by the Blackfeet were lucky to escape alive. Once, they’d set trapper John Colter free, but only because they’d wanted to hunt him down like an animal. They’d stripped him naked, took all his possessions and weapons, and then chased after him in a human hunt. Colter had survived the deadly game. But barely.
Eli didn’t want to begin to think about what the Blackfeet would do to the women if they captured them. The pounding of horses’ hooves drew nearer, and the gunshots grew louder. The Indian calls were shrill and sent chills over his hot skin.
He started toward Black Squire’s campfire. “Stay here and protect the women,” he called to Henry.
“Where are you going?” Henry shouldered his rifle.
“Just watch over the women,” Eli shouted.
He trotted toward Squire, who wielded a long knife in one hand and his gun in the other. “Take aim!” he roared to the others who’d gathered around him.
Eli lifted his rifle and stared down the long barrel.
The horses were galloping full speed at them, kicking up the dust into swirling clouds.
He cocked his head and closed one eye, getting an Indian into his line of vision. Setting his jaw with cold determination, he fingered the trigger. He was a doctor and wanted to save lives. And he’d wanted to befriend the natives, to be God’s voice of hope and peace. But at that moment he wanted nothing more than to take down anyone who dared to threaten his camp.
“Wait!” one of the trappers shouted. “One of ’em has a white flag on his gun.”
“Hold your fire!” Squire yelled.
Eli kept his gun trained on the Indian at whom he’d taken aim.
When they reared their horses in front of the caravan, Squire spat on the ground and swore. Then he grinned. “Tackensuatis.”
The lead Indian jumped off his horse.
He spoke to Squire in the Nez Perce language.
Squire replied in the brave’s native tongue, but they spoke too fast for Eli to understand.
John and Richard lowered their guns and smiled.
Another Indian dismounted and started toward Eli. The smooth face of the brave was a familiar one. “Kentuc?” Eli relaxed his hold on his gun.
The tall Nez Perce brave grinned.
The tension eased from Eli’s shoulders, and he chanced a smile.
“It’s good to see you.” He nodded at Kentuc, the strong, stealthy young man he’d met on the journey west last summer. “Where’s Parker?”
Kentuc shot off a stream of words in his native language.
Eli glanced beyond the Indian to the others, more braves and a few women. “John.” Eli nodded at the boy. “Come transla
te for me.”
The young Indian boy trotted over to him.
“Ask him about Parker,” Eli said.
John nodded and then conversed with Kentuc. The brave shrugged his shoulders and pointed toward the west.
Eli watched the exchange, picking up only a few words of their conversation. His body tensed. “What happened?”
“Kentuc at Rendezvous,” John explained. “Come to meet us here. Excited to see white women.”
“But where is Parker? Ask him to tell us where Parker is.”
Kentuc stared beyond the trappers to the missionary camp.
John spoke to him again.
Kentuc finally spoke in English. “Parker go home.”
Eli’s heart skidded to a halt. “When? Why?” He looked to John for the translation.
“He left after thaw for Fort Vancouver,” John said. “He sail home by sea.”
Eli’s mind reeled, and for a moment he couldn’t comprehend the news.
Kentuc dug into a leather pouch at his hip and pulled out a wrinkled letter. “From Parker.”
Eli took the sheet and scrambled to make sense of what had happened. Parker had left and was returning to the States by sailing around the continent.
“But why?” When Eli had returned east last fall, he’d left so many of the final details of the mission in Parker’s hands. The explorer had planned to speak with the native Nez Perce, purchase the land, map it out. And most importantly, lead them there from the Rendezvous.
“You’re sure Parker isn’t meeting us at the Rendezvous?” he asked.
“Parker gone.” Kentuc tapped the letter. “You read.”
“He tell in letter,” John said.
Eli straightened his back. He unfolded the smudged sheet with Parker’s scrawled handwriting. He smoothed it out, and his heart plummeted. The letters bled together, and he knew he’d never be able to read it. He had trouble enough when writing was legible. How could he ever make his way through line after line of scribbles?
He folded the sheet and stuffed it inside his vest. Frustration crackled through his veins. He would need help reading the letter if he was ever going to find out what instructions, if any, Parker had left for him.
But he loathed the thought of having to rely on anyone else. He could picture the pity and condescension in their eyes. He’d had enough of that in his life already and didn’t need any more.
Kentuc grinned and nodded in the direction of the missionary camp. The brave said something to John and laughed.
Eli rubbed a hand over his scruffy chin, fighting back disappointment.
The Indian women had already dismounted and made their way to the covered wagon. Mabel stood and greeted them with a wide smile. Priscilla hefted David onto her hip and sidled next to Mabel, offering the natives a kind but hesitant smile. He didn’t doubt she was remembering her experience with the Pawnee women.
His muscles contracted. Would he need to rush to her aid again?
Mabel hugged first one Indian woman and then another, and she attempted a few words in Nez Perce.
The native women giggled but hugged her again.
Priscilla shifted David higher on her hip, and when the Indian women turned to her, she attempted loose embraces with each of the women.
Kentuc, Tackensuatis, and the other men from the newly arrived party joined the women. Some of them just stared at Mabel and Priscilla, while others grinned and laughed among themselves.
Mabel smiled and greeted them with her usual cheerfulness, and Priscilla imitated the woman.
Tackensuatis stretched out his hand and touched Priscilla’s cheek.
Her face paled, and she stepped away from him. But the men drew closer.
Eli’s pulse spurted forward. Of course, Tackensuatis would have to touch Priscilla and not Mabel. He closed his fingers around his rifle and started forward.
Squire’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “You gotta toughen her up, or she ain’t gonna survive out here.”
Tackensuatis reached for Priscilla again.
Eli’s nerves crackled with the need to rush to her defense and keep anyone else from handling her.
“You been coddlin’ her like a baby.” Squire ogled Priscilla with the all-too-familiar desire Eli had seen in the trapper. But the man’s one eye shone with something more than desire. Since Running Feet’s death, Squire had started staring at Priscilla in a way that was too calculated, and it never failed to spark Eli’s nerves.
“You can’t be jumpin’ to her rescue anytime a fly buzzes around her,” Squire said.
“I’m not.”
“You got to let her fend for herself, or she ain’t never gonna learn how.”
Squire had a point. Priscilla needed to toughen up. Maybe she’d have a better chance at surviving if he didn’t step in every time she needed something.
Priscilla slapped at Tackensuatis’s hand, and he laughed.
Squire grinned. “I done figured she had some spit in her.”
“She’s got spit all right.” He strained against the current that threatened to propel him toward her.
Squire socked Eli’s arm and guffawed. “Can’t you leave her be for even a minute?”
Every sinew ached to go to her side. He hadn’t wanted to bring a woman along, but the day he’d married her, he’d made it his duty to protect her. And he was determined to keep her safe during this journey. No matter what.
“They ain’t gonna hurt her.” Squire’s scrutiny of Priscilla was too hard, the carnality too raw. “’Sides, maybe it’s time to give the rest of us a chance with her.”
Eli bristled. What was Squire thinking? Was the trapper forgetting what he’d done to Old Ephraim? “Nobody better even think about touching her.”
“Well, if you ain’t gonna have your way with her, then let someone else. We ain’t got enough women to go around, ’specially one as purty as her.”
Eli turned on the man and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Anger spurted through him. “Don’t you even think about it!”
Squire straightened to his full height and spread his broad shoulders. “Whoa, boy! Back off now.”
“Stay away from her.” Eli took a step back and drew in a deep breath. “She’s my wife.”
Squire’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “Don’t take an idiot to see you been keeping your distance from the woman.”
He had to get away from Squire before he did something he’d regret. He couldn’t afford to put their trip in jeopardy. Not now. Not after coming so far.
The laughter of the Indian braves drew him forward. Forget Squire’s advice. He was bound to keep Priscilla safe or die trying. He made his way through the Indians until he reached her. Then he slipped his arm around her and drew her to his side.
“My wife,” he said to the Indians, trying hard not to scowl at them. For emphasis, he squeezed her harder.
The men stepped back.
“Don’t touch her again.”
Priscilla’s elbow dug into his side. “Let go.”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he said between clenched teeth.
“I was safe.” She wriggled from his grasp, and with her chin high, crossed to the tent.
David gave a gurgle, and she kissed his head before she lifted the flap and ducked inside.
He had to give her credit. She did have spark. And she was doing a good job of caring for the baby. But was she getting too close?
Kentuc grinned at Eli. “Doc’s wife? She don’t like Doc.”
Eli just shook his head. How could he ever explain to the natives the differences between Priscilla and him, the mountain that separated them? They were two different people from two different worlds.
She didn’t belong out there. She belonged in her safe home in New York, planning prayer meetings.
And yet, he’d brought her anyway. He’d put her in danger so he could have his mission.
His heartbeat crashed to a halt at the thought. Had he been selfish? Had he used her? S
ince the start, he’d told himself they were both called to missions, that she’d wanted to come, that if he hadn’t proposed, she wouldn’t have been able to fulfill her dream of being a missionary.
But . . . if he hadn’t asked her, hadn’t convinced her to agree to the arrangement . . . she likely would have lived at home in safety the rest of her life.
A shudder crept up his spine. If anything happened to her, he would be solely to blame. He would be no better than a murderer.
Across the heads in the growing dusk, Squire’s dark look dug into him. The man nodded and gave him the kind of gloating smirk that said he’d seen Priscilla’s jab and their exchange.
For the first time since he’d met Squire, a surge of dislike jolted through Eli. He’d been able to excuse the man’s shiftiness before—had known he only had the best interest of the trappers in mind when he’d tried to leave their missionary party behind. He hadn’t wanted to jeopardize the lives of others because their women could slow them down.
Eli could understand that. And he respected it.
But now, Squire had crossed the boundary when it came to Priscilla. For a reason Eli couldn’t explain, that made him worry more than ever.
Chapter
20
Green River Valley
Two days later, on July 6, they descended into the Green River Valley.
Priscilla surveyed the vast flat prairie, watered by the Green River on one side and Horse Creek on another. The Wind River mountain range, with its snow-covered peaks, formed an imposing wall in the distance, and the beauty of it took her breath away.
In the middle of a wide open valley, the annual Rendezvous gathering spread out mile after mile—horses, mules, tepees, and the smoke of campfires—as far as the eye could see. All gathered to sell their furs and buy supplies for the coming year.
“Is there no end to it?” Her body trembled from fear and excitement.
“Think of all the opportunities we’ll have to share the gospel.” Mabel clasped her hands and smiled.
“So many opportunities.” Priscilla tried to muster the same enthusiasm as Mabel. After all, this was why she’d come, to meet the natives, to live among them, and to love them. Why, then, was she nervous at the thought of being in the center of so many of them?
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