Connie placed the blanket over Tom. “Too bad you’ve already got a job.”
Tom frowned. “After all this is dealt with, I don’t know that I will. I can’t imagine they’ll want us to stick around. We might only remind the Indians here about the failed uprising.”
“I don’t want us to lose our jobs.” Connie looked to Rosy and then her brother. “We were just starting to make friends.”
Isaac crossed his arms. “Well, there’s also the issue of Mother and Father. We need to ensure their names are cleared and see what the government plans for them. Besides, they’ve got the legal issues of their marriage to sort out.”
“It’s ridiculous.” Connie shook her head. “I don’t want to think about it. Tom, as soon as the doctor says you can travel, we’re heading back to Portland to see to this matter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He feigned a salute.
She gave him a look. “Are you suggesting that I’m in charge?”
Tom chuckled and pulled the blanket up under his chin. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
Connie walked outside with her brother. It was already midday, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I’ll bet Rosy and Tom are hungry too.”
“You’re going to cook?”
“Of course. Why not?”
Isaac shrugged. “I didn’t know you could. Ma said you spent the last seven years with your nose in books.”
“I also learned more about cooking and sewing. Aunt Phinny is an amazing woman. She enjoys a beautiful home and servants, but her modest upbringing taught her many skills. Where Mama’s training left off, hers picked up. I can make some of the most amazing dishes you’ve ever tasted. There’s one chicken dish in a mustard sauce that—”
“Stop,” he begged. “Don’t talk anymore, just cook.” He pushed her toward the shortcut through the trees.
She laughed. “Go kill me a chicken.”
Chapter 24
Connie sat between her mother and Tom as they waited for Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson to be introduced. Connie was delighted to be able to hear her speak about the Indian plight. It held special meaning in light of everything that had happened.
When Faith came onto the stage, the audience began to applaud. She was dressed in a blue evening gown with a tightly corseted waist. The three-quarter sleeves were trimmed in ivory lace, as was the square-cut bodice. Nancy and Connie had both helped her arrange her hair in a much fussier fashion than Faith normally wore, and she looked gorgeous.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “I am honored to introduce Mrs. Jackson this evening. Having heard her speak in Colorado, I can tell you that you are in for an evening of great information and a rousing presentation.” She continued to tell the audience some of Mrs. Jackson’s background.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Connie whispered to her mother. Mama gave a nod, but it was Tom who leaned in to answer.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you are.”
Connie’s cheeks grew hot, and she threw a quick sidelong glance his way. “Hush.”
He gave a low chuckle, then ran his fingers over the back of her gloved hand. Connie couldn’t even focus on what Faith was saying. This romance stuff was enough to completely dislodge one’s thoughts.
“And now I give you Mrs. Jackson.”
There was thunderous applause as a stylish older woman walked across the stage. Connie was anxious to hear what she had to say after hearing Faith speak so highly of her. Yet for all her desire, she was more than a little aware of the handsome man at her side.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I am delighted to be able to speak to you this evening. Many of you who are familiar with my work know that my heart is to better the fate of the American Indian. Tonight, I would like to speak about what I have learned as I’ve traveled this fair land.
“At this time, there are between two hundred and fifty thousand and three hundred thousand Indians in America, not including Alaska. Many tribes are now extinct due to war and disease, but of those remaining, there are around three hundred separate tribes.”
She stepped to the side of the podium. “Many were annihilated at the hands of white men determined to rid the world of those they called savage. Looking at their deeds, I wonder who truly was the savage.”
Mrs. Jackson continued speaking. Her comments made Connie think of Clint. He was sitting in jail and certain to be found guilty and hanged. The thought of someone she’d grown up knowing, someone she had once loved, being hanged sickened her. She knew he had done wrong—had even threatened to kill her—but Connie couldn’t find it in herself to want him to die.
Still, she knew Clint was responsible for at least three men’s deaths, possibly more. He deserved to hang. Her father had gone earlier in the day to act as a spiritual advisor to Clint, but Clint wanted no part of it. He said God was immaterial to him. That saddened Connie even more. Whom could he turn to for comfort as he faced death, if not God? How did people without God even manage to face daily life, much less death?
“Stories are told,” Mrs. Jackson continued, “of the cunning Indian waiting for the cover of darkness to kill those foolish enough to wander into their traps. Others paint pictures of the lazy Indian who is unwilling to learn a trade, much less go to that job each day and produce for himself a good living with which he can support his family. Lies abound when speaking of the American Indian because they have no one to defend them. I am here to do just that.
“It might surprise you to know that the Indians of most reservations are self-sustaining. They raise crops and hunt. They utilize various parts of animals killed for making clothing, furnishings, food, and medicines. They even manage in many locations to raise or catch animals and fish that they sell to white men for additional income. They are, of course, cheated at every turn by those who feel they are undeserving of a fair price.
“If I might dare read from Isaiah fifty-three—a verse that referenced our Lord Jesus, but a verse that well applies to our poor Indian brethren.” She moved behind the podium again and opened a Bible. “‘He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.’”
Mrs. Jackson looked out over the audience. “I put it to you that the American Indian is despised and rejected of men. They are well acquainted with grief. Only a few short years ago, a terrible massacre occurred in the Arizona Territory, brutally taking the lives of Apaches who had long been peaceful and under the direction of the authorities at Camp Grant. Women and children were murdered without leaving a single babe alive. This terrible act was accomplished by white people from nearby settlements and towns. When the camp doctor was sent to lend aid, he came back to report that there was no one alive to whom he could minister.
“The Indian has been despised, and ‘we hid as it were our faces from him.’” She paused and closed the Bible. “Please do not think me blasphemous or think that I am comparing the Indian to our Savior and Lord. It is just that these Scriptures depict the heart of the matter when we reject those whose skin is not the same color as ours. Now, you might say, ‘But, Mrs. Jackson, the Indians also attacked and made war on the white people.’ This is true, but I challenge you with this question. At what provocation?
“There are many stories passed down regarding Indian attacks during the wild frontier days, massacres and wrongs done to innocent white families. I do not suggest that either side is perfect, but I do suggest that we are more than willing to look away—completely forget the wrongs our own people have done. Well-respected military officials have testified on record that in nearly every case of attack by the Indians, we were the ones who made the first act of aggression.”
Mrs. Jackson spoke for nearly an hour, and when she concluded, there was thunderous applause, and everyone stood to honor her. Connie thought her marvelous. She had defended her beliefs not only with great passion,
but with statements of proof from documents provided by honorable men, including more than one president. Connie hoped and prayed her teachings would educate the people and cause them to give up their desire to drive the Indians to the far north. Perhaps in time, if the two peoples could just find common ground, they might learn to work together.
“Wasn’t she marvelous?” Mama said.
Connie gave a brief nod. “I was just thinking that. I hope we have a chance to meet her.”
“Faith said she would try to introduce us, but I believe the entire audience is hoping for that chance. We may simply have to be content with having heard her speak.”
“I am glad I didn’t miss it,” Connie admitted. She looked over at Tom. “Did you enjoy her talk?”
“Not as much as I enjoyed sitting next to you.” He grinned.
Connie smiled as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her gloved fingers. A shiver ran through her body. She still found it hard to believe the change in her feelings for Tom. She could hardly wait to see where God took them.
On October first, Connie sat with her family and Tom while Clint’s sentence was read. She listened to the judge as he listed the charges for which Clint was found guilty before continuing with the sentencing. Connie waited, hoping for leniency.
“And so it is the decision of this court that on October fifteenth, two weeks hence, you will be taken to the gallows and hanged by the neck until you are dead.”
Connie didn’t hear anything else. She knew it was a just decision, but it still tormented her to think of Clint dying. She wondered what he thought. Was he afraid? Angry? His father had received little more than a reprimand, with all of the blame being put on Clint. Senator Singleton denied any knowledge of an uprising, telling the court weeks earlier that he had only come to visit his son as he made his way back to California. The lawyer he had was much too quick with words and a long list of people who were happy to speak out on the senator’s behalf, including his other son, who worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington, DC.
It wasn’t as if Connie knew the truth about the situation one way or another. Clint could have made up his father’s participation, thinking to take the pressure off of himself. The prosecution had plenty to use against Clint, however, and no amount of double-talk by his defense lawyer had been able to save him.
The judge dismissed them, and everyone rose as he left the room. Connie glanced toward Clint and was surprised when he looked her way. He smiled as if amused by the entire situation. She couldn’t help being shocked and didn’t even try to hide her surprise. This only made him laugh. Perhaps he had gone mad.
She left the courtroom on Tom’s arm. He was commenting on the beauty of the day, but Connie couldn’t put aside Clint’s reaction.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked when they reached the carriage.
“He was smiling.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Who?”
She met Tom’s gaze. “Clint. He was smiling as he left the courtroom. How can a person smile when he knows he’ll die in two weeks?”
“It’s the shock,” her father said before Tom could reply. “It’s his only way of dealing with it and still appear as if he’s lost nothing.”
Connie touched her father’s arm. “You will go to him and talk to him about God again, won’t you?”
Her father’s expression turned sympathetic. “Of course I will. I think once he’s actually facing the noose, Clint will be far more willing to turn to Jesus.”
Connie nodded. “I know he’s guilty, and I hate that he tried to kill Tom and see you jailed, and that he’ll be killed for murders he committed, but I don’t want to see him lose his soul.”
“Ever my compassionate daughter.” Papa kissed the top of her head. He stepped back and smiled. “Speaking of Tom, when do you intend to marry him?”
Connie’s eyes widened. “Marry him? I, uh, don’t know. He’s never asked me.” She looked at Tom. “I think his head injury caused him to forget his feelings for me.”
“Hardly.” Tom dropped to one knee right there and then. Chuckles could be heard from the family members gathered around. “Constance Browning, will you become my wife?”
Connie put on a thoughtful look and paused for a long moment, as if having to truly consider the question. Finally, she smiled. “I will happily become your wife, Thomas Lowell.”
Tom looked at her father. “May I kiss her as a pledge of my intention?”
“Yes, I suppose that would be acceptable,” Connie’s father said with a stern expression. Moments later, he burst into a laugh.
Tom rose and pulled Connie into his arms. He leaned forward, and Connie closed her eyes, awaiting his kiss.
Before he pressed his lips to hers, Tom whispered against her ear, “Let’s see who faints this time.”
That evening Connie and Tom talked about the future as they relaxed before a fire in the front room of Nancy’s boardinghouse. Most of the extended family had returned to Oregon City, and the boarders had gone to bed, but just as she thought she might have Tom to herself for the rest of the night, Connie’s mother and father entered the room. After all these years, they still looked at each other with an expression one might find on the faces of newlyweds. They were still very much in love.
“I thought you two had gone to bed,” Connie said. “Come join us.”
Tom was already on his feet out of respect for Connie’s mother. “Please. We were just discussing the future.”
“That’s very appropriate. Your mother and I have been doing the same.” Papa led her mother to the sofa and, once she was seated, sat down beside her.
Faith and Captain Gratton appeared in the doorway. “Might we join you?” Faith asked.
“Of course.” Papa motioned her into the room. “I want you to hear this, as well as Nancy and Seth.”
“Did I hear our names mentioned?” Seth asked, drawing Nancy into the room alongside him. “We were just coming to say good night.”
“Please stay a moment. Mercy and I have an announcement to make.”
Nancy sat on a wooden chair while Seth stood behind her. He was so much improved from the injuries he’d received earlier in the year that there was talk of him soon returning to work at John Lincoln’s law office.
“What is it you want to say?” Connie asked.
“We know that after you and Tom marry, you are being relocated to a reservation in the Washington Territory.”
Connie nodded. “Yes, just after the first of the year.”
“Well, your mother and I thought . . . if you don’t mind, we’d like to follow you there and start a new church in the small town nearby. I’ve corresponded with the town mayor, and he assures me that a new church would be quite welcome.”
“That’s wonderful. I’d love for you to be close by.” Connie looked to Tom. “Wouldn’t you?”
He smiled. “I want whatever makes you happiest. Your mother and father have become more like parents to me than my own ever were. After we’re married, I’m looking forward to calling them mine.”
“We already consider you our son,” Mama replied. “But speaking of weddings, have you set a date yet?”
Connie and Tom had talked of nothing else all evening. “We thought just after Christmas, while everything is still decorated and beautiful. We’d like to marry here at Nancy’s. Right here in front of the fireplace. She told me she intends to set up a large tree in that corner over there.” Connie pointed. “I think it would be quite charming.”
“Would that be all right with you two?” Tom asked, looking at Nancy and Seth.
“I would be honored to have your wedding here. I only hope there’s enough room.” Nancy looked to Seth. “Will that be all right with you?”
“Of course.” He put his hands on Nancy’s shoulders. “I’m sure we can squeeze anyone and everyone in here.”
“It’ll only be family . . . and the ladies of the boardinghouse,” Connie said. “We don’t want a big affair.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t invite the entire family,” her father murmured.
“It’s true,” Faith replied. “We have become quite large.”
“But why wait so long?” Mama asked.
“Well, I know it will take time for Aunt Phinny and Uncle Dean to clear their schedules so they can come. They would want to be here.”
“Of course,” her father said, nodding. “They would be devastated if you left them out.”
“Perhaps we could have a double wedding,” Connie suggested. “With all the nonsense about you not really being married, we could prove once and for all that you are.”
“We already know we are,” Papa said, taking her mother’s hand. “I don’t feel the need to prove it to anyone. Washington Territory has no such foolish laws, which is another reason we want to move there. We want to be done with any accusations. We just want to live in peace and help people find their way to God.”
“I have a feeling,” Seth interjected, “that Oregonians are quickly going to tire of this nonsense as well. I think as they listen to more speakers like Mrs. Jackson, they will start to see the truth.”
“On the other hand,” Nancy added, “a lot of the men and women who live here remember the Rogue River Indian Wars just twenty-five years ago. The Whitman Mission massacre was only thirty-three years ago. There are too many people living with too many memories. Generations may have to die out before people will rethink their feelings toward the Indians.”
“Nancy’s right,” Faith replied. “I think it will be a long time before the people of Oregon forgive and forget. But until then, I will do what I can to help further the cause. Of course, I might have to delay serving any causes for a time.” She smiled at her husband. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Connie jumped up and went to hug Faith, as did Nancy and Mama. “This is such wonderful news, Faith. When do you think the baby will be born?”
“Sometime in March.” She was positively glowing with joy.
“Congratulations,” Mama said, kissing her cheek. “Nothing can cheer a day like weddings and babies.”
Forever by Your Side Page 25