Treasured Grace Page 16

  “May I speak to them?” Sam asked respectfully. He hoped Telokite would see that he completely accepted that the chief was in charge.

  “Yes.” Telokite turned and walked from the house without another word.

  With his departure, some of the women seemed to relax. Sam felt certain they recognized him from his previous time spent at the mission. Hopefully they knew he’d had nothing to do with what had happened.

  With great care, so as not to cause the women and children more fear, Sam made his way to where Mercy and Hope sat. Other children scurried away, as did the women who sat near the sisters. Sam squatted down and gave Mercy a smile.

  “Do you remember me? I’m Alex’s and Gabriel’s friend. Grace’s too. Remember? Alex and I took her to the Brownings’ mission.”

  Mercy nodded. “Is Grace dead?”

  Sam shook his head. “No. She is just fine. She is worried about you and Hope. I tried to get Telokite to let me take you from here, but he would not agree to it.”

  “He plans to kill us all.”

  Hope’s words surprised Sam. He turned his gaze from Mercy to her older sister and found Hope looking at him with such contempt that it was nearly palpable.

  “No.” Sam hoped he might at least encourage the hostages with that bit of news. He raised his voice just enough that the women in the room could hear him. “Telokite wants only to keep you here until the government agrees not to punish his people for what they did. If he planned to kill you, you would already be dead.”

  “Should that make us feel better?” Hope asked sarcastically.

  Sam saw the pain in her eyes. “No. Nothing will do that.” He reached to touch her hand, and Hope pulled back quickly. “They’ve hurt you, haven’t they?”

  By the look on her face, Sam knew she understood what he was asking. Hope said nothing, but in her expression, he could see the truth.

  He looked for a moment at Mercy and then back to Hope. “And your sister?”

  Hope shook her head. “They haven’t touched the younger girls.” She barely breathed the words.

  Sam nodded just as someone called out to him. He stood and turned to find Tomahas in the doorway. Once again the women cowered closer together and the children began to whimper. He looked back at Hope to see the murderous hatred in her eyes.

  “You go now. Telokite said you should go to the fort and speak for us. There are others who will talk for us, but you should go too.”

  Sam hated to leave the girls but knew he had no choice. He wanted to say something to encourage them, but he knew there were no words that would help. Nothing he could say would ever make this right.

  Alex sat by a very small fire, wondering when Sam might return. Grace, exhausted from her emotions, had crawled into the tent and fallen asleep. He had put the tent near the water, where the brush was thick and camouflaged its presence, then made his camp some yards away. He knew it was dangerous to have the fire but hoped that given his friendship with the Indians, they would do him no harm if they should wander across his camp. Besides, this area wasn’t along any of the main trails. Always in his past dealings with the Nez Perce and other tribes, Alex had been given friendship because of his French-Canadian ancestry and association with the Hudson’s Bay Company. He had no idea if that would be enough to maintain their goodwill now.

  While he waited, Alex considered all that had gone on in his life. The loss of his parents and the loss of his brother’s and sister’s respect had been terrible blows. Even worse were the darker, more tragic origins of why those things had happened. But he wouldn’t allow those memories. They weren’t worth giving his time to. What continued to return to his thoughts was the question of where God was in all of this. Alex had spent so much time pushing God away. Was it possible that despite Alex wanting to make things right, God had turned His back once and for all?

  A part of his mind reasoned that if this were the case, there would be no reconciliation. But his heart told him otherwise.

  Weariness washed over him. He was tired. Tired of running from the past and tired of running from God. He glanced at the cloudy black sky.

  “I know it doesn’t begin to account for my ignoring you, but I am sorry. I’ve made so many mistakes. I want a fresh start . . . if you’ll have me. We both know I’m not doing so good on my own.”

  He heard the unmistakable sound of someone in the tall grass not far from the camp. He scooted away from the fire and took up his loaded rifle. Waiting, he breathed a sigh of relief when Sam called his name.

  “It’s me.” Sam’s voice was hushed.

  “Come on over. You must be cold.” Alex put down the rifle and drew closer to the fire once again.

  Sam joined him, plopping down on the ground in obvious exhaustion. Alex could see the troubled expression on his friend’s face.

  “Are they dead?” Alex asked in a whisper, praying Grace wouldn’t awaken until he had a chance to talk to Sam.

  “No. The women and children are alive, except for Mrs. Whitman. They killed her and all the men. I spoke with Telokite. He thinks he can use the hostages to force the government to make peace with his people and not punish them. I told him that would never happen and it would only go worse for them if they continued. He wouldn’t listen.”

  “And he wouldn’t allow you to take Hope and Mercy.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “No. But he let me see them—talk to them.”

  “And?”

  Sam gave him a look that chilled Alex to the bone. “They’ve hurt so many of the women. Forced them . . .” He left the words unsaid.

  Alex felt a deep anger rising. “And Grace’s sisters?”

  Sam nodded. “Hope.”

  Alex clenched his fist to keep from taking up his rifle. He knew it would serve no purpose to go storming into camp to avenge the innocence of one young woman. They would simply kill him and add his number to the dead.

  For a long time, neither man said anything. The fire died down, and Alex couldn’t bring himself to put more wood on it. He had no desire to see Sam’s anguished expression, nor to have Sam see his.

  When the last flames were gone and only glowing embers remained, Alex drew a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh. “Say nothing to Grace.”

  Chapter

  15

  But you saw them, and they were all right?” Grace looked at Sam, certain that if he lied, she’d know it.

  “They live, and they seemed healthy. Telokite would not allow me to take them because he believes the women and children will keep the government from sending soldiers in to take revenge.”

  “What can we do?” She looked to Alex.

  “The best thing we can do is get to Fort Nez Perce. The factor there can send word to the fort in Vancouver, and they can get word to the governor. We need to move fast. The news may not have yet reached the fort.”

  “How can we go and just leave Hope and Mercy at the mission?” Grace knew even as she spoke that there was no other way. She didn’t even wait for an answer. “How far is the fort from here?”

  “About forty miles,” Alex replied. “It won’t be easy, and we’ll be on our own. Sam needs to get back to his village to tell the chiefs what he knows. The Spaulding mission in Lapwai may also have been attacked. We just don’t know.”

  She nodded. “Well, with the horses, we should be able to get there by nightfall.”

  “We can’t take the horses. Sam will take them back with him. Riding would make us too obvious. Sam says there are plenty of Cayuse around the fort. We’ll have to go on foot and do most of our traveling at night. Thankfully there’s little moonlight.”

  Grace considered her few supplies. She’d brought her carpetbag with her herbs and the money that was left to her sewn into the lining. She had little else.

  “All right.” She looked at Alex. “When do we leave?”

  They left after sunset when the evening skies darkened with rain clouds. It wasn’t long before a light, icy rain fell. Grace felt chi
lled to the bone but refused to complain. Alex had made it clear they wouldn’t be able to have a fire, so she tried to keep her mind fixed on the warmth and comfort that awaited them once they reached the fort.

  When dawn came the next morning, Alex found them a hiding place in the bank of the river. A depression worn away by floodwaters over the years would afford them a bit of coverage should anyone pass by.

  Grace huddled close to Alex, allowing him to wrap his fur bedroll around their shoulders while Grace’s blanket covered their legs. In another time and place, the intimacy would have been completely inappropriate, but given the circumstances, it was their only hope of keeping warm.

  When evening came, Alex told Grace that he was almost certain they could make the fort by dawn. She nodded and took up her carpetbag. Alex surprised her by taking it and tying it to the sling he wore that held their bedrolls.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested. “I can carry it.”

  He gave her just a hint of a smile. “I know you can.” But he didn’t offer it back to her.

  They ate jerked meat as they followed the river to the west and said very little for fear of being overheard. Through the course of the night, a heavy fog moved in and settled like a blanket over the land. They used the mist to their advantage.

  Dawn came, and they were still several miles from the fort.

  “The fog is thick enough that we’ll just risk it and keep going.” Alex pulled her close and kept his voice low. “We should be safe enough, but there’s no real way of knowing for certain.”

  “It’s all right, Alex. I trust you.”

  He met her gaze, and without thinking, Grace reached up to touch his cheek. Her action so startled her that she immediately pulled away in embarrassment.

  “We should go.” She moved off, following the river’s edge, not even waiting to see if Alex would follow.

  I must guard my thoughts and feelings. This is no time or place to let my heart get the best of me. Grace determined that she would do a better job of maintaining self-control.

  Fort Nez Perce was situated on the Columbia River near the place where the Walla Walla River merged with the Columbia. The Hudson’s Bay Company fort had been there for a great many years. By the time Alex and Grace reached it, the fog was finally starting to lift. Grace felt disappointed by the lackluster fort. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this adobe brick walled fortress wasn’t it.

  Alex must have sensed her dissatisfaction. “It’s not much.”

  “I’m not sure what I thought it would look like. I suppose maybe I was expecting buildings like in a city.” Weariness overwhelmed her and mingled with anguish and fear. “No matter, I am glad it’s here.”

  Alex conversed momentarily with one of the men on guard before leading Grace to the main building, which housed the store. It was there that Grace learned they weren’t the first to come. Somehow Peter Hall had managed to get there, as well as the Osborn family. Word had already been sent to Fort Vancouver, and the factor, Mr. McBean, was awaiting news as to what should be done—if anything.

  “There’s little I can do,” McBean said. “I don’t have men available. I sent Osborn to see about getting help, and Hall took off on his own to reach Fort Vancouver. I can’t be doing anything until I hear from the directors there.”

  “They could all be dead by then,” Grace countered. “I honestly don’t know what good it is to have a fort if it offers no safety or help in times of trouble.”

  Mr. McBean looked sheepish. “This isn’t really that kind of fort, ma’am. We’re a trading fort, not a soldiering fort. We receive the Indians and white trappers alike to exchange furs and food. We aren’t set up with soldiers.”

  “I can see that.” Her frustration was clear in her tone. “Where are Mrs. Osborn and the children? I’ll see if I can offer them any medicinal help.”

  Mr. McBean showed her to the Osborns’ lodgings and then told Alex that he and Grace would have to bed down wherever they could find a spot. He didn’t have beds for them, but he would lend them additional blankets.

  Mrs. Osborn sat in a rocking chair near the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around her for added warmth. The children were still asleep, so Grace tried to be as quiet as possible. She drew up a stool and sat down directly in front of the haggard woman.

  “How are you feeling, Margaret?”

  “I’m weary of this country—of life,” she admitted, her face void of emotion. “I think I shall never feel safe again.”

  Grace nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I have some herbs with me and vinegar. Is there anything I can do to ease your suffering?”

  Margaret looked at Grace and shook her head. “There is nothing to ease this misery. You have no idea what horrors took place that day.”

  Glancing at the small bed where the three Osborn children slept, Grace gathered her courage. “Maybe it would help if you talked about it. I’d like to know what happened. My sisters are still there.”

  Margaret looked at Grace oddly for a moment. “I’m sorry. I had forgotten.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the rocker. “I don’t know everything that happened, and most of what I do know comes from hearing rather than seeing.”

  “That’s all right. Just tell me what you feel you can.”

  “My family was in bed in the Indian room. I was feeling a little stronger, so I decided to get up and see how it would be to walk and sit a bit. It was the first time I’d been up in three weeks. I went into the sitting room, where the doctor was reading and Narcissa was bathing little Elizabeth Sager. Poor child. When the killing started, she ran around the room, naked and screaming.”

  Grace could see it all. She knew what the sitting room looked like. Narcissa would have been bathing Elizabeth by the stove in order to keep her warm. In addition, there were two settees, a sofa, and a bed, the latter necessary for several sick children. There were two outside entrances into the sitting room, as well as one internal door to the Indian room, where the Osborns were staying, and one into the kitchen.

  “Did you see either of my sisters?” Grace couldn’t help but pose the question. She needed to know what they had endured.

  Margaret gave a brief nod. “Hope was in the kitchen with John. It was just after the nooning, and Mary Ann Bridger was there too. I had been there a little earlier to get hot water for tea but had gone back to the Indian room where my family was resting. I left the tea to steep and realized I needed to ask Narcissa about something—I forget what it was, now. I opened the door to the sitting room just as Hope came to tell the doctor that the Indians were there for medicine. I could see by the look on Narcissa’s face that she was afraid. The Indian they called Telokite tried to push his way into the sitting room, but Dr. Whitman prevailed and kept him out.” Margaret drew breath and let it go in a long sigh. For several minutes she said nothing.

  “I heard raised voices and then a scream. It might have been Hope. I hurried back to the Indian room, and Narcissa called to me to lock the exterior door. At some point, the kitchen door was forced open. My Josiah asked what was happening, and I told him the Indians had risen to kill us. He jumped to his feet, took up a flatiron and some nails, and secured the exterior door so no one could enter.

  “The gunfire was deafening and seemed to go on forever. I hadn’t thought to close the door to our room. Narcissa again yelled for me to close the kitchen door, and when I went to do so, I saw young John Sager dead on the floor. Your sister was holding him.”

  Grace gasped and choked back a sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks even though she fought to keep them back.

  “There was so much screaming and crying from the children that I thought to go and help, but Josiah called for me to shut the door and come back into the Indian room. I did, and he told me to secure the latch. While I did that, Josiah managed to pry up a few floorboards that weren’t yet nailed down and told us all to get under the house. The children were terrified. We all were.”


  “I’m so sorry.” Grace held Margaret’s hand, which trembled as she told her story.

  “We were no sooner hidden away with the boards back in place when the Indians broke into the room. They were raising such a clatter as they tore the room apart that my Alexander cried out that the Indians were taking all our things. I clamped my hand over his mouth, terrified that they had heard him and would find us, but they didn’t.”

  The children stirred in the bed behind her, and Margaret paused to turn and see if they were all right. When there was no further noise, she looked back at Grace. “After that, it was the sounds that were awful. We could hear the gunfire and screams. We heard people racing through the house as well as those being murdered just outside. Poor Andy Rogers died just beyond our room. I can still hear him as he lay dying. He was praying, calling out to God over and over. ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.’”

  Grace’s chest tightened in agony at the thought of that gentle soul being murdered. If only he had accompanied her to the Brownings’ mission, he might still be alive.

  “. . . screaming as the Indians forced themselves upon them.”

  “What?” Grace realized she hadn’t fully heard what Margaret was saying.

  Margaret shook her head. “The women. They were screaming as the Indians forced them—took them—as wives.”

  A wave of nausea rose up in Grace and she tasted bile. Hope and Mercy. Had they been so cruelly abused? Dear Lord, please no.