Treasured Grace Page 8

  Alex leaned back and decided it was best to keep quiet. He knew their ways were strange to Grace. Maybe in time she’d better understand, but now wasn’t the time to take her to task.

  “Say, Alex, I could sure use a cup of strong coffee.” Gabriel looked to Grace. “You suppose Whitman would spare some?”

  “I think he would, although I wouldn’t say anything about this.” She waved her hand over Gabriel’s wounded leg. “I doubt he would appreciate the situation.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ll go see what I can round up.” He squeezed past Grace in an awkward crouch, then jumped from the wagon. He glanced back at his friend and the woman who strangely seemed to fill his every thought. “Shouldn’t be long.”

  Without encountering the doctor, Alex managed to secure two mugs of coffee and return to the wagon. As he drew near, he heard Gabriel talking and decided to hold off a moment to listen.

  “A great many people think folks should be quartered off for one reason or another. Either because of their religion or the country they came from.”

  “That’s true enough,” Grace replied, “but their point is a good one in the sense that we are more comfortable with what we know. So if we stay in a place where people think and live as we do, then we’ll get along better.”

  “I suppose some figure it’d be nice to have things work out that way, but for me, I like knowing and living amongst a lot of different folks. There are some mighty good people out there who are nothing at all like me.”

  “I’m sure that’s right, but I know in the east people are disturbed by such differences. Like the color of a person’s skin. Slavery has many people upset.”

  “It’s never sat well with me for one man to own another. Seems to me that you can’t be judgin’ one man or woman by the color of their skin.”

  “I don’t mean to sound judgmental, and I don’t believe that slavery of one race to another is acceptable. I was just taught that we should each keep to our own kind,” Grace replied.

  “And we should. But that means people keepin’ with people. You wouldn’t go out there and marry your horse, now would you?”

  Grace laughed. “No, I don’t suppose I would. But neither would anyone else I know.”

  “Knew me a man once,” Gabriel began in that thoughtful tone Alex had come to recognize. “He doted so much on his dog, I think he would have married her. But she was mighty good to him, so I can’t say as I would have blamed him. She was one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen. Saved his life more than once.”

  “Here, have some more jam on your corn bread,” Grace offered.

  Alex figured their talk was concluded, but Gabriel went on. “Grace, I know what white folks say about me takin’ Indian wives. They say it ain’t natural, but I married ’em because I loved ’em. Never dishonored them before marryin’ ’em proper. They were good women—Christian women too.”

  “They were Christians?” Grace sounded surprised by this.

  “They were. I led ’em to the Lord myself. Told them all about Jesus comin’ to earth as a baby and growin’ up to teach folks about His Father in heaven. You know the truth of that?”

  Alex had to smile. Gabriel had been a good influence on him over the years despite his frustration and anger with God. Gabriel never let him feel sorry for himself or wallow in despair. It was probably to the older man’s credit that Alex hadn’t given up on life years ago.

  “I do,” Grace admitted. “My folks were Christians and made sure we read from the Bible every day.”

  “That’s how I did it with my gals. They were always sad about folks killin’ Jesus on the cross,” Gabriel continued, “but I told ’em He died for us—because He wanted to, not because anybody made Him. Once they knew the full story, they agreed gettin’ saved from their sins was the only way to honor the sacrifice Jesus made.” He paused for a moment and gave a chuckle. “They was also afraid of going to hell.”

  “When I agreed to marry the Right Reverend T.S. Martindale,” Grace began, “I knew the plan was for us to come west to set up a mission to preach to the Indians. However, the Right Reverend never wanted a wife, and well . . . frankly we never lived as husband and wife. The Right Reverend said he didn’t need a wife and certainly didn’t need a family. He wanted to be certain there would never be any children, and that was fine by me. I always figured we would come west and probably part company. I wanted only to get me and my sisters to Oregon City, where my uncle lives, and the only way I could join up on a wagon train was to be married. It was never about love.”

  Gabriel gave a disapproving grunt. “That’s one of the saddest things I ever heard anybody say. Ain’t right to make vows to the Lord and not mean ’em.”

  Grace sighed. “I meant them. I had resigned myself to honor and obey. I wouldn’t have asked for a divorce, although I always figured the Right Reverend would annul the marriage in time.” For a moment neither one said anything, and then Grace continued. “I suppose it wasn’t right, but I never meant it as a lie to the Lord. Besides, now the Right Reverend is dead, and I am free. I’m glad you told me about your wives. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “You didn’t. You just didn’t know better. Now that you do, I wouldn’t expect you to say those things.”

  “And I won’t. Ever again. I guess you’ve helped me to see the Indians in a different light. Alex helped with that too.”

  “He’s a good man. A lonely man, but a good one.”

  Alex decided to make his presence known. There was no way he wanted Gabriel encouraging Grace to keep Alex from being lonely.

  “Here’s the coffee,” Alex said, holding up the mugs.

  Grace took them and gave him a smile. “Smells good. I think I’ll leave you now and go see to my own supper.” She put the mugs on a wooden barrel and turned back to face Alex.

  “Allow me,” Alex said, reaching up to help her.

  He pulled Grace from the wagon, and when her feet touched the ground, he was hard-pressed to release her. Her nearness was nearly his undoing. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, and it only served to make him all the more determined to put some distance between them.

  “Thank you,” Grace said before he could move. “Please see that Gabriel stays in bed. I can’t stress enough how important it is that he stay off the leg.”

  Alex nodded, looking deep into her eyes.

  Grace smiled again and sidestepped him. “I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow.”

  She walked away, leaving Alex to stare after her. For several moments he couldn’t move. What was this spell she’d woven over him? One minute she was infuriating him, and the next he wanted to pull her into his arms.

  “You gonna climb up here anytime soon so I can have my coffee?”

  Alex turned to find Gabriel sitting up, watching him with a grin. “I’m coming,” he replied and climbed up to join his friend. “Don’t be gettin’ all impatient. If you get that leg messed up, Grace will have my hide.”

  Gabriel gave a snort of laughter. “I think she just might have it anyway.”

  Chapter

  8

  When Grace checked on Gabriel the next day, she surprised him with a guest. Mercy was restless but still far too weak to do much, so Grace had bundled her up and brought her along to keep the old man company.

  “I see you brought me a visitor. What a pretty little girl,” Gabriel said, throwing Mercy a smile.

  Mercy blushed and ducked her head. She was the only one of them who could stand up in the wagon. “I’m glad you’re doing better, Mr. Gabriel,” she murmured.

  Gabriel shook his head. “No ‘mister’—just Gabriel or even Gabe.”

  “My name is Mercy. I’m Grace’s youngest sister. I was there when Mr. Armistead brought you to be sewed up.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I can’t remember our meetin’.”

  Mercy shrugged. “Do you like to play checkers?”

  “I certainly do. Did you bring a board?”

  Mercy went to one of two
remaining trunks in the wagon. “We have a set here. I thought we could play a game or two, if you like.”

  “So long as you don’t wear Gabriel out,” Grace commanded. “He needs a lot of rest.” She began to unwrap his leg. “I thought Mercy might stay with you for a few hours so that Alex could go about his business.” She looked at Alex and shrugged. “Whatever that is.”

  Alex looked annoyed, but Gabriel chuckled. “This time of year it’s mostly making sure the traps are in good working order for the spring. The best furs are had in the spring, so we make certain to have everything ready.”

  “There’s more to it than that. We have to lay in meat and wood for the winter. We have to make repairs to our cabin and weapons, make ammunition. There’s a lot to do.” Alex sounded completely offended by Gabriel’s casual answer. Perhaps he feared Grace would think him a lie-about.

  Gabriel grimaced as Grace continued to remove the bandages. She hoped she could get his mind off the injury through conversation. She also hoped it would keep her thoughts from focusing on Alex. All through the night, she’d dreamed of him holding her in his arms. It had nearly caused her to seek out Dr. Whitman this morning and turn Gabriel’s care over to him. She wasn’t at all sure she could endure spending more time in Alex’s company. His presence did things to her that she didn’t understand.

  She forced her thoughts back to the topic at hand. “I must admit that I know nothing about trapping. My Da would sometimes trap coyotes, but usually he just shot them if he saw them.” She frowned at the sight of Gabriel’s leg. The area around the wound was hot, swollen, and red. “I fear infection has set in.” She shook her head and reached into her bag. “I’m going to make a poultice. Hopefully it will draw out the poison.”

  She took up her mortar and pestle and added herbs from several bottles along with water she’d boiled the night before. Once she had a thick paste, Grace smeared some of the salve directly on the wound. The rest she put in a cheesecloth poultice. With tender care, she applied the poultice directly to the wound and then began to rewrap the leg.

  “I’ll come check on you both in a couple of hours and change this in about four. We’ll need to keep the salve fresh, so Alex, you’ll need to change the bandages through the night.”

  “Surely we don’t got to go to that kind of trouble,” Gabriel said in protest. “I’m thinkin’ it’ll be better by mornin’.”

  “I hope so,” Grace said with a smile.

  “I’m happy to apply a new poultice in the night.” Alex pointed his finger at Gabriel. “And you will be a cooperative patient or else you’ll answer to me.”

  Mercy giggled. “Grace is always saying that.”

  Alex met Grace’s gaze and smiled. “I’m sure she does.”

  Grace’s heart skipped a beat. She looked away. “Mercy, when you finish with the checkers, why don’t you read some of the Bible to Gabriel? He knows a great deal about God, and you two could discuss what you read.” She started gathering her things. “I’m going back to see what I can do for the sick.”

  She climbed down from the wagon before Alex could offer her a hand. He jumped down right behind her and followed her as she headed toward the mission house.

  “I want to thank you for helping Gabe. He’s a good man.”

  Grace looked at him as he kept pace with her. “I’m sure he is, but I’m very worried about his leg. I fear I didn’t get the wound cleaned out well enough.” She frowned and looked toward the mission house. There were at least a half dozen Cayuse arguing with Dr. Whitman. “I’d rather we avoid that,” she said, stopping abruptly. “I think I’d prefer to return by the river path.”

  Alex nodded. “I think you’re right. No sense in stirring up Whitman’s curiosity as to what we’re doing.” He surprised Grace by taking her elbow to guide her. “So where’s your other sister? Hope’s her name, right?” He looked at her a moment. “Grace, Hope, and Mercy. It just now dawned on me that you’ve all been given names based on—”

  “Bible verses,” Grace interjected. She tried not to think of the warmth of his hand on her elbow and forced a smile. “Da gave them to us. Mine is based on the last verse of the Bible, Revelation twenty-two, verse twenty-one. ‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.’” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Of course as Da pointed out, there are a great many verses in the Bible that speak of grace, and it pleased him to give me that name. He said I was a gift from the Lord, therefore I was the Lord’s Grace. However, he also told me I should work hard to live up to such a name, for grace in and of itself is a treasure.”

  “Treasured grace,” Alex murmured with a slow nod. “I agree.”

  “And I know you also agree that I haven’t been very full of grace when it comes to the Indians, but you and Gabriel have helped me see the error of my ways. I can’t say I’m at ease with them and their ways because I don’t know them, but I have prayed to have more grace where they are concerned.”

  “You show more than most folks. Most of the people here would just as soon not have to interact with them at all. You used your skills to give them comfort and aid.”

  “Fear is what stops most of the people here at the mission.” Grace shook her head. “And I cannot find fault with them for that. I too am afraid. It’s difficult to hear the rumors without being afraid.”

  Alex nodded. “These are trying times, to be sure. But with a little wisdom and calm discussions, I believe peace can prevail. But it will take time before we are completely at ease with each other.”

  Grace wondered for a moment if Alex was still speaking of the whites and Indians. She stopped as they approached the emigrant house. “And time is a most precious and unpredictable commodity.”

  “‘Time is what we want most, but what we use worst,’” Alex said, smiling. “William Penn said that. I remember hearing my father quote it.”

  “It’s true.” Grace glanced back across the mission grounds to where the Indians stood in conversation with Dr. Whitman. It seemed the situation had calmed. Perhaps yet another crisis had been avoided and cooler heads had prevailed.

  She looked back at Alex and nodded. “We just need time.”

  With Alex’s help, Grace made another visit to the Cayuse village. More people had died, and unfortunately they had been treated by Dr. Whitman, causing the chiefs to believe more than ever that the doctor was trying to kill them. It didn’t help that several of Grace’s patients had immediately improved.

  “It won’t bode well for Whitman,” Alex told Grace as they made their way back from the village.

  Ahead of them, near the mill pond, Grace saw the man Alex had called Joe Lewis. Grace recognized him as the one who had interpreted for Whitman that day she’d been in the kitchen. He had dark hair and eyes, but where those features made Alex dashingly handsome, they made Lewis look sinister.

  “Your friend there makes a better tewat than Whitman,” Lewis said, pointing to Grace. “Maybe we’ll let her live.”

  Grace heard a low growl come from Alex. He narrowed his eyes, his expression taking on the look of a man about to engage in a fight.

  “I’m not going to tolerate you frightening her,” Alex said in a low tone, emphasizing each of his words.

  Lewis laughed and gave Grace a leering look, letting his gaze travel the length of her body. “I don’t want to frighten her. In fact, I can think of a whole lot of things I’d rather do to her.”

  Grace shuddered as Alex stepped forward with his fist raised. “You touch her, and I’ll see to it that you never touch anyone ever again.”

  Another cold shiver ran through Grace as the men squared off. The last thing she wanted was for them to fight over her. There was already enough arguing and threats between the Cayuse and the mission folks. She certainly didn’t want another clash starting on her account.

  Lewis took another step toward Alex, the smile fading from his face. “You’d better watch yourself, Armistead. You’re only tolerated around here because of your brotherhood with S
am Two Moons and the Nez Perce. The Cayuse would just as soon kill you off with the rest of the tiwélqe.”

  “Enemies? You really think the whites are your enemies?”

  “They are, and the Cayuse will not be defeated by them.”

  Alex shook his head. “And I suppose you’ve been inciting them to hate all whites.”

  Lewis shrugged. “I tell them the truth. Whitman wants them all dead.”

  “If that were true,” Grace couldn’t help but interject, “then why bother to try to heal the sick or treat the wounded?”

  “That’s just another way he gives ’em poison,” Lewis answered, meeting her gaze. “I pointed out to them that you follow a lot of the Indian ways when it comes to healing. That way has resulted in their people getting better, while Whitman’s way is death.”

  “You can’t believe that Dr. Whitman wants to kill the Cayuse.” Grace could see by Lewis’s expression that he did believe just that. She hurried to continue. “What purpose would it serve? He came here to minister to the Indians, to share the Word of God and to see that they didn’t die without knowing Christ as their Savior.”

  “The Black Robes already teach about the Great Father in Heaven. We didn’t need the Boston men.”

  “The Catholics aren’t the only ones who want to share the Word of God,” Grace said. “God would have everyone share the Gospel of Jesus.”

  “The Black Robes have proven trustworthy,” Lewis countered. “They pay for the land they use and don’t charge outrageous prices for trading goods. You can’t say that about Whitman. He owes the Cayuse money for using their land, but instead of paying, he just takes more and more land.”

  Grace had no idea what the agreements between the Cayuse and Whitman were. She imagined the doctor would certainly look out for his own needs. Perhaps he did charge them too much for food and other necessities. Maybe he didn’t pay for the use of the Cayuse land. It might behoove her to learn the truth before defending him.

  Alex put his hand on her arm. Looking up, Grace could see something in his expression that told her to be quiet. At first she considered ignoring it, but as his grip tightened, Grace decided to cooperate. After all, Alex had been among these people a lot longer than she had.