Woman of Courage (17 page)

“A man’s got a right to change his mind.” Jim lifted the ax and gave it a swing, splitting another log in two.

Buck stood with his arms folded, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t believe that his friend was turning so soft.
Next thing I know, that Quaker woman will have Jim converted to her religion, too
, he fumed.
Well, she’ll never convince me that I should turn to God or admit that I’m a sinner. My mother always tried to do what was good and right, and look where that got her!
And as far as forgiving went … Buck knew that no matter how long he lived, he’d never forgive Silas Lothard for the things he had done.

I
’m goin’ back to my own place,” Buck told Jim the following morning before the women got up.

Jim’s bushy eyebrows raised into his hairline. “Ya can’t. Ya ain’t healed well enough yet.”

Buck tapped his foot impatiently. “I need to see about my traps.”

“I said before that I’d take care of your traps when I’m out checkin’ mine.” Jim lowered his voice. “I need ya here, Buck, to keep an eye on the women while I’m gone.”

“Humph!” Buck scoffed. “Who’d be here watching ’em if I hadn’t been hurt?”

Jim scratched the side of his head. “Well, I’d probably have asked ya to check my traps so I could stay with the women.”

Buck motioned to the dog sleeping by the fireplace. “Thunder’s here, and I’m sure the women will be fine while you’re gone. I’ve wasted too much of your time with all this tending you’ve been givin’ me.”

“Thunder is a good protector, but I’d feel better if a man was here. You’d be helpin’ me a good deal if ya stayed on, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the women.”

“You weren’t worried about things before. What’s got ya feelin’ so antsy?”

Jim took a swig of coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Things are different now. I’ve got a wife and son to think about.” Jim placed his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Will ya stick around the cabin for a while yet? It’d make me feel a lot better.”

Buck hesitated, then finally gave a nod. He owed Jim a lot for the things he’d been taught, so he figured hanging around the cabin a few more days was the least he could do for his friend.

As Mary lay on the bed, nursing Little Joe, her thoughts wandered to the life she used to know when she lived among her people. Food gathering began in the spring, and she figured her tribe had already left their home along the Clearwater River to travel up to the high country, where roots and bulbs grew. Bitterroot and wild carrots were also collected, along with berries and nuts.

By July, the tribe would move farther on to the prairies to gather the sweet camas bulb. While the women did that, the men hunted, held horse races, and partook in various ceremonies.

By November, most of the tribes returned to their winter villages to wait until the next year, when they would do it all over again. Those were good days, and Mary missed them.

Thoughts of home and family always made her feel sad, and she usually shed a few tears. She missed her parents, and the thought that her son would never know his grandparents made her feel worse. Little Joe would not learn the Indian ways, at least not as Mary had known them when she was called Yellow Bird. Her son wouldn’t follow behind his father, as Yellow Bird had done when she was a girl, learning about the different herbs and their purposes for healing. Instead, Little Joe would learn to set traps and prepare the catch for trading.

A vision of her father came to mind. Tall and strong, Laughing Wolf was highly respected among their people as an excellent horseman. Mary used to enjoy watching him break horses. Her heart swelled with a sense of bittersweet joy as she remembered the day he’d given her a pony when she was a young girl, full of joy and hope for the future. She reflected on the times they rode together or sat side by side on their mounts, looking out over the land. Laughing Wolf would explain to his daughter how life had been when he was a boy. She took in every word he’d said for, like many of the people in her tribe, she admired him greatly.

Then there was her mother, Small Rabbit. Mary could almost see her right now, bent over a weaving loom, her shiny black hair worn in long braids, her liquid dark eyes, warm and caring. Mother was a skillful weaver and had created many beautiful things—storage baskets, cooking vessels, and geometric-designed hats, often worn by some of the Nez Percé women. Yellow Bird’s mother had patiently taught her how to weave, sew, cook, and do various other chores expected of the women in their tribe. Mary’s heart ached to see her parents and share the news that they had a grandson.

Her thoughts drifted to her older brother, Little Bear. She wondered if he had ever married Smiling Squirrel, the Indian maiden he’d loved since childhood. Mary had been away from her family for more than two years. So much could have happened in that length of time. She wondered how many weddings, births, and burials she had missed.

This line of thinking conjured up thoughts of Gray Eagle, but she quickly pushed them aside. It hurt too much to think of things that would never be. She was no longer Yellow Bird, daughter of Laughing Wolf and Small Rabbit. Though not of her own choosing, she was now Mary Breck, wife of a mountain man, but she had finally come to accept that fact.

She glanced at the cradleboard leaning against the wall. She’d made it before Little Joe was born so she could strap him to her back whenever she went outside. She’d lined the board with rabbit fur and decorated the outside wooden pieces with colored beads she’d bought during their last visit to Fort McKenzie.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming into the room drew Mary’s thoughts aside.

“Are ya done feeding the baby?” Jim asked, moving over to the bed. “Amanda has breakfast ready.”

She gave a nod. “Our son sleeping now.” Mary climbed off the bed and placed the baby in his wooden cradle, next to the bed.

“Ya did a good job makin’ that,” Jim said, pointing to the cradleboard. “But I’m wondering how come ya picked only yellow and blue beads. What’s wrong with red or green?”

“Red and green good colors,” Mary responded. “But blue and yellow most important to me.”

Jim scratched his head and snickered. “Don’t see what’s so important about them colored beads.”

“Blue represent water, gift of life. Child is gift to us.” Mary hesitated a moment, and when he made no response, she continued. “Yellow stand for sun. Sun rules over earth with greatness. It friend to water. Our child will be great like sun.”

Jim eyed her curiously but remained silent.

“Must have water and sun to live,” Mary explained. “Sun round like circle of life. We born. We die. We have children. They have children. Circle unbroken.”

Jim pulled a hunk of dried rabbit from his pocket. “Injuns have some mighty strange ideas about things,” he mumbled. “Everything’s gotta have some kind of meanin’, don’t it?”

She nodded. “Everything has meaning. Birth of child bring meaning for us.”

He grinned. “You’re right about that. Never dreamed I’d feel such joy as when I first laid eyes on our son.”

“Me wonder something,” Mary said.

“What’s that?”

“Do you believe in Great Spirit? Do you have guardian spirit to guide and protect?”

Jim shook his head. “Naw, that stuff’s just for Injuns.”

“I wonder if Great Spirit and God may be same. Amanda tell me about Jesus, God’s Son. You know of this man?” she asked.

A muscle on the side of Jim’s neck quivered. “I know all I wanna know, and that’s enough!” His tone softened. “But if you wanna listen to all that stuff Amanda tells ya, that’s up to you. I won’t stop ya from hearin’ her Bible stories.”

Mary smiled. “It good that I listen. Maybe someday you listen, too.” She moved toward the bedroom door. “We eat breakfast now.”

When they’d finished eating their meal, Jim announced that they were getting low on fresh meat so he was going hunting. Amanda looked at Mary to get her reaction, but she merely shrugged her shoulders.

“I’d like to go with ya,” Buck announced.

Jim shook his head. “We talked about this earlier, remember? I need ya to stay here.”

“If Buck feels up to hunting, maybe thou shouldst let him go,” Amanda spoke up. “It will give Mary and me a chance to clean the cabin.” Truth was, in addition to doing some cleaning today, Amanda wanted to read more scriptures to Mary. The last time she’d read to Mary from the Bible she’d seemed quite interested, and Amanda figured it was just a matter of time before she would have her first convert to Christianity. She was hoping to get through to Jim and Buck, as well, but so far they’d both seemed closed off.

Jim finished drinking the last of his coffee. He turned to Amanda and said, “You’re welcome to stay in this cabin for as long as ya want, but there’s one thing we’d better get straight.”

“What’s that?” Amanda asked hesitantly. She had a feeling she knew what was coming.

“This is my place, which I built with my own hands, and I’ll not have ya comin’ in here tellin’ me, Mary, or Buck what to do. Do I make myself clear?”

Amanda’s face heated. “Yes, sir. I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I just wanted thee and Buck to know that Mary and I will be fine here by ourselves today. That is, if thou art agreeable,” she quickly added.

Jim sat staring into his empty cup, then pushed back his chair and stood. “Buck stays. That’s all there is to it! Oh, and we’d both appreciate if you’d quit sayin’
thee
and
thou
all the time.”

Amanda flinched. If she said any more, Jim might ask her to leave. Without a guide, she had no place else to go. From now on, she would be more careful what she said and how she said it.

Jim rode out of a nearly barren stand of trees and down into the fertile valley below. He knew the wild game often came here in search of food. If he could bag a deer or an elk by noon, he would have it gutted and cleaned and be back at the cabin by suppertime. That would provide ample meat for a while.

Jim never would have thought it was possible, but he was much more content now that Mary had given him a child. He was glad for this newfound peace because the turbulence that had invaded his every thought, every action, since the loss of his first wife had exhausted him. He was also glad Mary had forgiven him when he’d recently apologized. Deep down he’d never wanted to treat Mary badly, but he hadn’t been able to control his actions. His anger had been stronger than his restraint. If he cared for Mary, maybe even loved her, it would mean letting go of Lois, something he hadn’t been ready to do. But since the birth of his son, Jim realized it was time to let go. Time to release the hurt and anger that had been eating away at his very soul. This baby boy had put a whole new perspective on life.

A quick movement of reddish brown caught his eye, and he saw two deer standing near the bordering trees. He brought his horse to a halt, unsheathed the gun, loaded, and fired. He dropped the five-point buck in its tracks, then watched as the doe, flagging her tail, ran quickly for cover.

The deer was soon dressed out and placed over the packs on the horse’s back. Then Jim turned back in the direction of the cabin. It had been an easy hunt, and he’d be home earlier than planned.