Woman of Courage (15 page)

“You hold whenever you want,” Mary said. “I care for Buck if he need me.”

Amanda smiled. “As long as thou art able, I guess it would be alright if we take turns.”

Mary tipped her head. “Take turns? What is that?”

“It means that I will take care of Buck whilst thou art busy with the baby, and then thou canst care for Buck while I watch the baby.”

Mary gave a nod. “Is what I said.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. I was just expressing it in a different way.”

Mary picked up one of the baskets she had woven sometime ago and started for the door. “You come get me if Little Joe need to be fed.”

“Yes, I certainly will.”

When Mary stepped into the yard, she drew in several deep breaths. Having been cooped up in the cabin the last several days, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed being outdoors. The air felt clean and fresh as it always did after a good rain. She smiled, glancing at the trees and bushes bursting with green leaves. She felt one with nature, just like when she had been living among her people. Springtime brought new birth, new beginnings. Now it was the same for her and Jim in their small but sturdy cabin. She had given Jim a son, and because of it, she saw in her husband a new appreciation and even respect.

Mary studied her surroundings, taking in all the sights, smells, and sounds. The morning was certainly coming alive after nature’s bath had rinsed everything off. She noticed droplets of water glistening in the morning light while slowly dripping from pinecones not yet opened by daytime warmth. Several chickadees splashed in a puddle, while nuthatches scurried up and down tree trunks looking for bugs. A thin layer of fog hung just above the surface of the nearby stream, and the ground smelled earthy, still damp from the rain. Mary knew it would vanish as the humidity disappeared, and a blue-skied day awaited them.

She stood several more minutes, breathing deeply and taking it all in, then finally moved toward the woodpile. A chipmunk dashed away as she approached. She set the basket on the ground and had just picked up the first piece of wood, when Jim stepped up to her. “Whatcha doin’ out here?” he asked with a look of concern. “Shouldn’t ya be inside resting?”

“I fine,” she said. “Came to get wood for stove.”

“Mary, that can wait. There’s something I need to say,” Jim said, moving closer.

She looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“This ain’t easy for me, but it needs to be said. I owe you an apology for all the hurtful things I’ve said and done since ya came to live here with me.” He cleared his throat loudly, while raking his fingers through the ends of his thick beard. “I’m especially sorry for the times I mistreated ya when I had too much to drink.”

Is this truly happening?
Mary wondered. Good things didn’t come to her. She was afraid to believe something decent might happen. Was Jim having a change of heart?

Mary dropped her gaze, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her mind pulled her back to the first time she’d been the victim of her husband’s wrath.

Yawning, Jim pushed his chair away from the table, causing it to scrape noisily across the floor. “Think I’ll take the chill from my bones,” he said to no one in particular. His feet were clad in soft moccasins, and he plodded across the room to the cabinet full of his personal supplies
.

Out came a full bottle of corn whiskey, and Mary watched with concern as he settled himself into one of the split-log chairs near the big stone fireplace. Jim’s dog gave a noisy grunt and flopped onto the floor next to his master
.

Mary drew in a deep breath. She wished Jim would take the bottle into the other room and be out of sight for the night. At one of the Rendezvous her tribe had attended, she had seen what the white man’s firewater could do to the Indian. No doubt it would have the same miserable effect on any man, whether his skin was red or white
.

Anxious to get to her loft, Mary hurried to finish her chores in the kitchen
.

“Put another log on the fire!” Jim called, as she began her ascent up the ladder a short time later
.

Mary hesitated. Hoping he would think she hadn’t understood, she quickly scampered the rest of the way up
.

Peeking down from above, she watched as Jim took a long drink from his bottle and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. With a fierceness in his tone that Mary hadn’t heard before, he screamed, “Get down here, now! If I have to come up there after ya …”

Trembling, Mary was already on her way back down the ladder and almost tripped when her foot got hung up on the bottom rung. She righted herself in time and went immediately to the wood box and placed two good-sized logs into the fireplace
.

When she started back across the room, Jim reached out his hand and caught her by the wrist. “Just where do ya think you’re goin’?”

“Me wish to sleep,” she said, head down and eyes focused on the floor
.

“You’ll go when I say and not before!” he bellowed
.

The pungent odor of whiskey wafted up to Mary’s nostrils, and she fought the impulse to run away. It was all she could do to keep from gagging, as she swallowed the bitter taste of bile slowly creeping up her throat
.

Jim shifted in his chair but didn’t release his hold on her arm, causing her to wince in pain. She hated this man, just as she had hated Smoking Buffalo, the Blackfoot Indian who’d taken her captive and traded her to Jim
.

He took another hefty drink, then finally released her arm. Believing she was free to go, Mary started toward the ladder
.

Jim leaped to his feet, knocking over the wooden chair with a thud. “I didn’t say ya could go!” With a few quick steps, he crossed the room and yanked the razor strap down from the wall peg
.

Mary ducked, but it was too late. He struck her across the shoulders with a loud whack. She lifted her arms in order to protect herself, but the strap came down hard against her outstretched hand. She cringed as a large, red welt quickly appeared
. I will not cry out,
she told herself
. I must not let him think I am weak.

A vein on Jim’s neck bulged, and his breathing became heavy and labored as he cursed and threw her to the floor. There was no time to block the blows. His foot connected heavily with Mary’s fragile ribs, and he pelted her several more times with the strap
.

She groaned heavily but did not cry out. Her days of abuse among the Blackfeet had toughened her mind as well as her body
.

The hair on Thunder’s body stood straight up, and he growled. Jim cursed again and kicked the dog in the rump. “Shut up, cur! This ain’t none of your business!”

The dog yipped and slowly retreated to the fireplace. Jim reached down and grabbed one of Mary’s braids, yanking her roughly to her feet. He buried his face in her neck, and pulled roughly at her doe-skin dress with his large callused hands
.

“I kill you!” she screamed. Her fists pounded against his muscular chest. She would not let him take her by force. Not without a fight
.

“Oh, ya will, huh? We’ll just see about that!” he roared
.

Mary swallowed hard as a wave of nausea curdled her stomach. The mountain man was much stronger than she, and he’d been drinking the crazy firewater. If he really wanted to take her by force, there was little she could do about it
.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he released her, but when she realized he’d lost his balance and was about to fall on top of her, she rolled quickly to one side
.

Jim fell in a heap on the floor, passed out in a drunken stupor
.

Mary stood quickly, staring down at him with disgust. He could lie there the whole night for all she cared. Looking over at Thunder, the dog returned her gaze and whimpered. It made her wonder how many times he’d been abused by his master
.

She scampered quickly up the steps that led to her place of solitude. From childhood, she’d been taught to be strong in the face of adversity. Why did she feel so weak now? She had tried to be brave and hadn’t let Jim see her fear, but the beating had been severe, making her wish she had never been born
.

As Mary reached the last rung on the ladder leading to her loft, she paused and drew in a deep breath. Nothing mattered anymore. Life was empty and meaningless. She no longer had her Nez Percé pride
.

Mary’s thoughts were halted when Jim drew his finger gently across her cheek. “Can ya forgive me for bein’ so hard on you, Mary?”

She swallowed hard, letting her gaze meet his. This was a side of Jim she hadn’t seen before. In the year they’d been married he’d never apologized for anything. “I … I forgive,” she murmured.

He pulled her into his arms and gently patted her back. “I threw out all my liquor last night when you were asleep, so there won’t be none around to tempt me again.”

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Jim kept true to his word, there would be no more beatings.

“From now on, I’m gonna try and be a better husband to ya,” Jim added, continuing to pat her back.

“I be good wife to you, as well,” she said, leaning her head against his chest.

“You already are, Mary. You’ve been a good wife since the day you became Mrs. Jim Breck. Now, let me help ya gather that wood.”

As Amanda sat in the wooden rocker near the fireplace, holding Little Joe, she found herself wishing she had a child of her own. If she’d married Nathan, as planned, she could be expecting by now.

She stroked the baby’s soft cheek. His hair was dark, but it was too soon to tell if he would take after his father or mother.

Buck stirred from his mat nearby, and Amanda stopped rocking, fearful of waking him. She sat still several seconds, until she was sure he was still asleep, then resumed rocking the baby.

A few minutes later, Buck sat up and yawned.

“I’m sorry if I woke thee,” Amanda said. “Was it the creaking of the rocking chair?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m not sure what woke me, but it’s okay. I’ve slept long enough.”

“How art thou feeling?”

“I’m stiff, sore, and hungry,” Buck said, stretching his arms overhead. He winced. “Ow! Guess I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Thou hast every reason to be sore.”

“Yeah. I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Would you like me to fix thee something to eat?” she asked.

“Naw, I can wait. Don’t wanna interrupt what you’re doin’ there.” He stared at her curiously, then eyed Little Joe. “Did Mary have her baby?”

Amanda nodded. “She gave birth to her son shortly before Jim found thee by the stream.”

“Guess I’ve been too out of it to know what was goin’ on. How long have I been here?” he questioned.

“Three days.”

Buck whistled. “I don’t remember much about anything.”

“Thou hadst a fever, but it broke last night. It’s the first time thou slept without throwing the blankets off.” She sighed. “I was able to sleep better, too.”

“What do ya mean? Have you been keepin’ an eye on me at night?”

“Jim and I have taken turns,” Amanda answered. “With thy fever raging, we didn’t think it would be good for thee to be alone.”