She couldn’t meet his gaze and stared instead at the top button of his shirt.
“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to leave—to go home.” His fingers caressed her chin and then forced it up so she was helpless to do anything but look into his eyes. “I almost lost you again today, and I don’t want to lose you. I want you to stay here in Oregon Country—with me. Always and forever.”
Her breath hitched. “What about giving me an annulment and sending me back ho—”
He put a finger on her lips, stopping her words. “The day I married you, I made a covenant to you and to God to be a loving husband in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both lived. I’m realizing I can’t desert you or send you away when things get hard. After making vows to you, you’ve become just as much a part of God’s plan for my life as the mission is.”
He moved his fingers from her chin to her cheek and made a soft trail down to her neck.
Her pulse thrummed.
His fingers stilled at the base of her throat. His eyes darkened with something that took her breath away. It was desire, but surely so much more than that. . . .
He untied her bonnet and pushed it back, letting it fall into the brush. Then, before she could protest, he unpinned the tight knot of her hair at the back of her neck.
The heavy strands cascaded down her shoulders and across her chest.
He stepped back, and his gaze swept over her.
Heat rippled through her stomach.
“I’ve dreamed about doing that—ever since our wedding night.”
The heat swirled into her cheeks.
His fingers tentatively touched the curls floating by her ear.
She leaned her head against his hand.
He dug into the thickness, intertwining his fingers as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His chest rose up and down. And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I haven’t forgotten about the thank-you that you owe me.”
“And I haven’t forgotten either.”
The hand that was buried in her thick hair tipped her head back so her lips were exposed, open, and parted with readiness.
He dipped his head, and she closed her eyes, her body singing with desire for him.
His lips teased hers before moving to the pulse in her throat and tasting her there.
She gasped and abandoned her apronful of cherries.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“You do?” Hope sprang anew in her heart.
“I’ve just been an idiot and too proud to let myself admit it.” His declaration reflected in the clear blue of his eyes. “I can’t delude myself any longer. I have to confess. I’m madly and passionately in love with my wife.”
She traced the scar on his cheek, savoring the thrill of his words.
“I don’t expect you to return my love. I know I need to earn it still—”
She moved her fingers to his lips and silenced him. “Oh, Eli. I think I fell in love with you that first day when you walked into my church and put me in my place.”
He chuckled. “Well, if putting you in your place is what did it, I’ll have to make sure I humble you more often.”
“You’d better not.” She smiled. “Once a lady, always a lady.”
“Only now you’re my lady.”
“I’ll always be yours.”
His fingers combed her hair back. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
“Why don’t I show you my answer?” She stood on her toes until her lips touched his. With the softness of a flower petal, she caressed him.
His breath caught.
She tilted her head back and smiled.
“I guess that means yes.” His voice was low, and the charge in it sparked her nerves in anticipation.
“So what about our business arrangement?”
He cocked one of his brows. “And just what are you asking, Mrs. Ernest?”
She flushed. “I was thinking maybe we don’t need to be business partners anymore.”
He gave her a slow grin and his eyes sparkled. “Why don’t I show you my answer?”
His lips fell upon hers, and he claimed them with a strength that left her breathless.
She’d traveled thousands of miles away from everything she’d ever known and loved. But she was finally home—would always be home—in his arms.
Chapter
27
December 1836
Waiilatpu, Oregon Country
Keep your eyes closed,��� Eli murmured against Priscilla’s ear.
“I thought you said we were almost there.” She snuggled against him on his horse, where she had gladly ridden the last several miles. A cold December wind had battered them for most of the twenty-five miles from Fort Walla Walla to Waiilatpu.
She’d been chilled through her flesh into her bones when Eli had finally insisted she ride with him the remainder of the distance to their new mission and the home he’d spent the past weeks building.
“Be patient.” His voice hinted at excitement—the same excitement that was bubbling in her now that they were so close.
“Maybe you’re riding around in circles just so you can have a few more minutes with me on your lap.”
“And a few more kisses.” His warm breath in her ear sent a shiver of delight to the deepest place in her belly.
His lips moved to the tender spot beneath her ear, and his warm kiss stirred an ache for more of him.
She’d had so little time with him recently. First, they’d traveled to Fort Vancouver to buy supplies. After that, she’d lived at Fort Walla Walla while he’d traveled ahead with two Hawaiian laborers he’d hired to help him build the mission.
Eli and Henry couldn’t agree on the location of the mission, so after numerous discussions, the two men had decided to part ways. Henry had settled upon a location a hundred miles east of them. Eli had helped deliver Mabel’s baby girl. Then the dear woman had ridden away with Henry, carrying her newborn baby in a sling. And she’d gone, knowing they would have to live in an Indian lodge until their log cabin was completed.
Priscilla’s admiration of her friend had only grown.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” Eli whispered.
Priscilla leaned her head back and opened her eyes to meet his. “And have I told you how much I love you?”
He captured her lips in a sweet kiss that held the promise of many more to come.
“Look over there.” He nodded his head.
She sat forward and surveyed the wide open plain. The Walla Walla River cut through the land, and there, situated close to the river, stood a lean-to and a small house with a newly built chimney. The smoke rising from it beckoned them.
In the distance, the formidable Blue Mountains stood along the horizon, covered with snow and completely impassable now.
Against the pink-tinted twilight sky, the beauty of the valley took her breath away. “It’s absolutely perfect, Eli.”
“We’ll have almost three hundred acres.” He pointed to the land surrounding the mission. “I’ll be able to enclose most of it with a fence—eventually.”
“Then we’ll have plenty of space and water for the cattle and the crops.”
“And room to add on to the mission.”
“Perhaps we could plant peach and apple trees,” she suggested.
“Plum and pear too.”
Sweet contentment wafted through her. She was with Eli, and anything was possible.
“We aren’t far from the winter dwelling of the natives.” Eli pointed upriver, and she could distinguish several lodges.
“Many of the men have come to help with the building—as best they are able.” Next to the mission were the two tents Eli and his laborers had used while they built the house.
“We’ve laid the floor, but we don’t have windows or a door yet.”
Blankets hung in the frames. “Then you shall have to keep me warm at night until we are able to get them.�
�
He grinned. “I’ll be keeping you warm at night even after we get them.”
Heat infused the cold skin of her cheeks.
He urged the horse forward, and the young men he’d hired to pack supplies from Fort Walla Walla followed them down the hill until they reined their mounts before the cabin.
“I must warn you,” he said, a crinkle of worry forming in his brow, “it won’t be fancy. We won’t have furnishings—no bedstead, no chairs or table. I haven’t had time to make them yet.”
“I’ve made do all these months without them,” she reassured him. “And I’ll be fine now too.”
His gaze met hers, and the intensity in his depths made her shiver with pleasure. “I was so wrong about you, Priscilla. You’ve proven to be one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. You’ve endured this journey like a heroine.”
His words wrapped around her heart. She had failed more times than she could count, had wanted to give up, had lost hope. But through it all, God had given her the strength she’d needed to survive.
The blanket over the door lifted, and Richard stepped outside.
“Richard!” She smiled at the young man.
His eyes lit, and he strode toward the horse. “Mrs. Doc.” He reached for her and helped her to the ground.
“I’ve missed you.” She pulled him into a fierce hug and lifted her eyes to heaven in thanksgiving. On one of his trips back to Fort Walla Walla, Eli had told her that Richard had finally shown up on the new mission site. While his parents had mourned John’s death, they hadn’t blamed Richard or Eli for the boy’s death. And with the blessing of his parents, Richard had made peace with Eli. He’d even asked Eli to teach him about the white man’s medicine.
“Do you like house?” Richard asked, breaking away from her in his excitement. “I help Doc with all the work.”
“It’s lovely. I couldn’t have asked for a better home.” And truly she couldn’t imagine anything finer than this home that had been crafted with such love by her husband and the natives.
“How is everything?” Eli asked, lifting his brow at the boy.
Richard grinned. “Everything is still here and waiting.”
“Then let’s get Mrs. Doc inside and get her warmed up.” Eli jumped from his saddle.
Richard took her by the arm. “Come.”
Even though the cabin wouldn’t have furnishings, they’d purchased many other supplies during their trip down the Columbia River to the British-owned Fort Vancouver. Since the fort was stocked with goods from ships that came from as far away as London, they were able to acquire products of the best quality—milk pails, coffeepots and teapots, candlesticks and molds, farming utensils, and other necessities.
She’d been disappointed in the lack of books and school supplies. But she’d posted a letter home, asking for their supporters to send teaching supplies, religious books, papers, and the like by sea. She’d even made a special request for her science books.
In the meantime, she was grateful for all the comforts they were able to acquire, more than she had expected in the strange land.
Richard tugged her to the door. He pushed aside the blanket—one of the India rubbers they’d used on their overland trip.
“Here.” He helped her through the doorframe.
She glanced around the large room, not yet partitioned into the smaller rooms that would form bedrooms, a pantry, and a kitchen. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and the warmth was a welcoming embrace.
On the floor in front of the fire sat an Indian woman with a long braid that touched the newly laid floorboards. At the sound of their footsteps, she stood and turned.
There was something about her face that looked familiar. But it was the child in her arms that took Priscilla’s breath away.
Could it really be? “David?” Her heart thudded in a frantic crescendo.
At the sound of her voice, David craned his neck until his big eyes found hers.
She flew across the room, and a sob drummed against her chest. “David.”
The Indian woman smiled and loosened her hold.
Priscilla smoothed a hand over David’s head, over his cheeks, over his arms.
He smiled and reached out a hand to her.
The woman said something in her native tongue, something soft and obviously encouraging. She nodded and held David out.
Priscilla’s mind couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening, but she was helpless to do anything other than what her heart demanded. She took the boy into her arms and held him against her chest—knowing she could never let him go again.
She kissed his hair, letting its familiar silkiness brush her lips. “Oh, my baby,” she whispered. Her throat squeezed with all of the weeks of missing him and worrying about whether he was being cared for and loved.
And now he was here.
She pulled back and rubbed his cheek. He was thinner and his clothes were dirty, but he was alive, and his eyes were as bright as she remembered.
His fingers groped for the cameo at her throat and her bonnet strings. Then his eyes regarded hers for a long moment. “Ma-ma.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Yes. Mama.”
Eli slipped his arm around her waist. “I think he remembers you.”
“Oh, Eli, where—how—” She couldn’t get the words past the tightness of her throat.
“Apparently Squire had a change of heart. Either that or he realized what a great responsibility he’d taken on in caring for a baby.”
“But how did David get here?”
He nodded at the Indian woman—the same woman who had taken the baby from her that awful day at the Rendezvous. “She traveled with the Nez Perce group that had been at the Rendezvous. They arrived about a week ago, after they finished their hunting.”
The woman smiled at Priscilla with kind eyes.
Her return smile was wobbly. How could she have ever been so proud as to think of the natives as savages?
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The woman nodded.
David tugged on the cameo again.
And suddenly Priscilla knew what she had to do.
With one hand, she fumbled at the pin that held the cameo in place. She unhooked it and slipped it off her collar.
She looked at the delicate pattern, kissed it, and then held it out to the Indian woman. It was time to say good-bye to her past, to forge ahead with her new life, and to fully embrace a different kind of plan for having children. Maybe she would always feel the sting of having a barren womb. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fill her heart and home with the children that God brought into her life.
“I want you to have this—a thank-you for taking such good care of my baby.”
The woman hesitated.
Priscilla pushed it into her palm and closed her fingers around it.
Eli’s arm tightened around her, and his lips brushed her temple.
She hugged David to her chest, overwhelmed with gratefulness. She’d given up everything to leave her home and to head into the wild unknown. But in doing so, she’d gained more than she could have ever imagined possible.
Author’s Note
This book was inspired by the true story of Marcus and Narcissa Whitman, a young missionary couple who traveled overland to Oregon in 1836 for the purpose of starting a mission among the Nez Perce natives. Narcissa Whitman is lauded as the first white woman to cross the Continental Divide and travel to the far West (along with her traveling companion Eliza Spalding). Today, if you traveled to South Pass, Wyoming, you would find a monument that reads Narcissa Prentiss Whitman, Eliza Hart Spalding, First White Women to Cross This Pass, July 4, 1836.
It was my hope in this story to bring Narcissa Whitman to life. This heroic woman has often been ignored and at times even disparaged. In reality, she exuded incredible courage to attempt a trip many proclaimed foolishly dangerous. It was called an “unheard-of journey for females.” Because of her willingness to brave the unknown, she led th
e way for the many women who would follow in her footsteps on what would later become known as the Oregon Trail.
As with any story of historical fiction, the large majority of what I’ve written was truly from the depths of my imagination and my creative meanderings of “what could have happened.”
However, as you sift through the fiction versus fact, you may be wondering what really happened. In my research of the Whitmans, I drew from numerous biographies. While I wasn’t able to stick to every historical detail in complete accuracy, most of the story outline is taken directly from Narcissa’s diary.
The spiritual revivals of the early 1800s led to the early missionary movement, in which thousands of young people desired to spread the gospel to the so-called uncivilized people of the world. Many of them, like Narcissa, had the appropriate zeal, piety, and education that were considered important by the Mission Board, but the candidates were largely unprepared for the harshness of missionary life. And many more women died than survived the hardships and cultural challenges missionary life brought.
The Mission Board really did require their potential candidates to get married before going to the mission field. Marcus and Narcissa didn’t know each other very well when they made the decision to get married for the purpose of starting the mission in the West. But both of them desired to go and were willing to engage in a marriage of convenience for the sake of their missionary dreams.
Henry Spalding really was an old beau of the beautiful Narcissa and had at one time proposed to her. Henry and his wife Eliza traveled with the Whitmans. There was continual tension between the couples, and when they reached Oregon Country, they did in fact settle in two different places.
I tried to follow the trail they took west as closely as possible. While I was unable to include every stop and incident of their travel for the sake of brevity, I did try to capture the essence of their journey. I included their travel first by sleigh, then steamboat, and lastly by wagon and horse. The American Fur Company steamboat left without them on two separate occasions. Marcus had to travel with the women to catch up to Henry and the wagons. They also had to chase after the Fur Company caravan, finally reaching them at one o’clock in the morning. The next day they passed the Pawnee villages.
The Doctor's Lady Page 32