Woman of Courage (24 page)

As though it could sense the danger, Jim’s horse, hobbled several feet away, whinnied loudly. It was then Jim realized his gun was tied securely to one of the packs on the horse’s back. If he’d been carrying it, he could have shot and killed the rattler with no hesitation. That left him with only two choices. He could back away slowly from the snake and hope it didn’t strike before he reached his gun, or remain still and pray that the reptile would crawl away in the opposite direction.

His hands grew sweaty, and the muscles in his legs tightened as he contemplated what to do. After a moment’s hesitation, Jim chose to back away slowly, but not before he sent up a quick prayer.

The snake lunged forward. The bite came hard and fast against Jim’s ankle, and he winced in pain as the reptile’s fangs sank in. It was too late for caution. Jim turned and started for his horse, but not before the snake caught him again, on the other ankle.

Jim was wet with perspiration by the time he reached Wind Dancer, and his ankles were growing more painful with every passing moment. He grabbed the gun and prepared to fire, but the snake had slithered away and was out of sight. He had to get to Mary, for she would know just what to do.

Jim threw himself into the saddle, urging his horse into a full gallop. There was no time to waste. The double dose of poison would travel fast.

I should’ve taken my knife and bled the wounds
, he thought.
Well, Mary can tend to the bites with my knife and her healing herbs
.

Mary had just taken a pan of trout Jim had caught yesterday off the open fire, when Jim rode quickly into their camp. One look at her husband’s ashen face told her immediately that something was wrong.

Jim dismounted and limped toward Mary. “What is it, Jim? Are ya hurt?” she asked, fear mounting in her chest.

“It was a rattler. He got me good!”

Amanda gasped.

“Did ya bleed wound?” Mary asked.

Jim shook his head. “Came right here. Ya need to tend it. The pain’s really bad, and I feel weak and woozy.”

“Lie down in tent,” she instructed. “I do what I can.”

Jim took off his moccasins and pulled up his right pant leg to expose the first snake bite, which was a little above the ankle. The area was severely swollen, and Jim was sweating profusely. Mary was afraid he might pass out, and she hoped she could keep him conscious.

“Mary,” he murmured, lying on one of the mats. “I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’.”

“No talk now,” she told him sternly, moving toward her satchel of provisions. “Lie still.”

“No! I need to say this now.” Jim sounded desperate, as he reached his hand out to her.

Mary knelt next to him. “Speak if ya must, Husband.” Maybe it would be better for him if he kept talking.

“I got right with God this morning, Mary. And I’m sorry for it now, but I’ve blamed God all these years for the death of my first wife.” Jim’s eyes glazed over as he looked at Amanda, who had knelt on the other side of him. “That’s why I wouldn’t let ya talk to me about the Bible at first.”

“I understand, but if you have made things right with God and confessed your sins, then you have nothing to worry about now,” Amanda said in a comforting tone.

Jim sucked in a ragged breath as he looked back at Mary. “I love ya, Mary, and if I live, then I’m gonna take you and Little Joe to see your family. I was anxious to tell ya that as soon as I got back, but wasn’t figurin’ on it goin’ like this.”

Mary swallowed around the lump in her throat. Jim’s words had touched her soul. “I love you, Jim, but now I must tend wound.”

With trembling hands and a heart full of mixed emotions, Mary heated Jim’s knife over the flames of the fire. She could hardly believe he actually loved her, or that he planned to take her to see her family. Why did this accident have to happen now, when things were finally going so well?

When Mary returned to Jim’s side, she noticed that the snake bite on his exposed leg was more red and swollen than when he’d first arrived back at their camp. She knew what must be done, and quickly made the incision. Then she proceeded to suck and spit out the poisonous venom. By the time she’d finished the unpleasant task, Jim’s eyes had rolled back in his head, and his body began to convulse. He was soaked in sweat, and pale—so very pale.

Mary hurried to her parfletch and got out some willow bark to make a tea that would hopefully ease the pain and inflammation on his leg. Next, she made a poultice from plantain, which she placed on the bite. She tried to get Jim to drink the tea, but his body trembled so badly, he nearly choked on the liquid.

I have done all the things I know to do
, she told herself.
Why isn’t he responding?

As Jim thrashed about, his other pant leg pulled up, and she discovered a second ugly wound. Quickly, she made another incision, sucked out the poison, and put a poultice on it. Once more she offered Jim some tea, while Amanda sat nearby, praying out loud.

Throughout the rest of the day and into the night, Mary tended to Jim, while Amanda continued to pray and take care of Little Joe. Thunder stayed close at hand, going to Jim and lying by his side.

Early the next morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon, Jim gasped his final breath.

“You cannot die!” Mary screamed. She placed her hand against his nose to feel for a breath. Nothing. She pressed her head against his chest and listened, but Jim’s heart was silent.

“No! No!” she cried, throwing herself across his prostrate body. Tears of despair coursed down Mary’s cheeks.
Not now. This cannot be true!

She lay sobbing for a long time, until Amanda’s touch pulled her away. “You did everything you could for Jim. He’s in God’s hands now,” Amanda soothed, gently patting Mary’s back. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Mary realized that Amanda was trying to comfort her, but she didn’t want comfort. She wanted her husband—Little Joe’s father. Jim was gone, and with him, their hopes and dreams for a future together.

A
manda felt sick. What had started out as such a happy time had ended in disaster. It seemed she’d faced nothing but one mishap after the other ever since she’d left home. Was this what she could expect, living in the wilderness—things turning so quickly and changing her life forever?

Amanda glanced at Mary, solemnly swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.
What is to become of this young Indian woman and her son?
she wondered.
If only I could do something to ease her pain
.

Little Joe began to cry, and Mary rushed to her son, sweeping him possessively into her arms. She took a seat in the far corner of their tent, cradled the babe in her arms, and rocked back and forth as though in a trance.

Heavenly Father
, Amanda prayed,
please give me the words to comfort Mary
.

Mary continued to sit and rock, singing a chant-like song. Amanda knew her friend needed to grieve in her own way, so she took one of the blankets, covered Jim’s body, and moved away to sit near the fire.

After some time, Mary placed Little Joe, who had fallen asleep, back in the safety of his cradleboard. Then she turned to Amanda and said, “Need to bury Husband.”

Amanda nodded. “I’ll get a shovel from one of the packs.”

After the women dug the grave, Amanda watched while Mary went to Jim’s saddlebag and retrieved his favorite pipe. Then she walked over and tucked it in Jim’s hand. Mary looked at Amanda, but no words were needed.

They pulled Jim’s body to the site and placed it inside his permanent resting place, along with the pipe. When they’d scooped the last shovelful of dirt over the grave and topped it with several large stones, Amanda quoted a verse of scripture and said a prayer. Feeling that Mary needed a bit more time, she started singing:

When Amanda finished the last stanza and started to move away from the gravesite, Mary tore her tunic at the neck and fell to her knees. Dredging up handfuls of dirt, she rubbed it onto her hair, face, and arms. Mary ended the ritual by cutting a piece of her hair.

Amanda didn’t understand the reason for this, but figured it must be an Indian custom for mourning the dead.

Mary grieved until Little Joe demanded to be fed again. Despite Amanda’s coaxing, Mary had only eaten a little rabbit stew. She had no stomach for food, but she knew she needed to eat in order to have enough milk to nourish her son.

Mary wasn’t sure if they should leave the campsite or stay another night. They couldn’t stay here indefinitely. They were getting low on many of their supplies at the cabin, and she had all of Jim’s fur pelts and hides to sell or trade. She really had only one choice if she hoped to provide for herself and Little Joe. They must go on to the Rendezvous.

It would be difficult to travel without Jim, but she was thankful for Amanda’s company. They also had the protection of Jim’s rifle, as well as Thunder, his faithful dog. When they reached the Rendezvous and had traded for the necessary supplies, she would take Amanda to the Spalding Mission. There was nothing for her and Little Joe at the cabin now. She needed to return to her people’s winter home. She only hoped she could remember the way.

Mary had been taught as a child that moss grew on the north side of tree trunks. She also remembered her father saying, “If you ride with the rising sun on your left, keeping the mountains behind, you will be heading south.”

She had done her calculations and felt sure they were traveling south, but how far they were from the Rendezvous site, she had no way of knowing. Making a decision to pack up and head out, Mary told Amanda they would stop often to water and rest the horses.

As they traveled the trail, the scorching sun soared high overhead, and the horizon stretched endlessly ahead. The heat of the day was almost unbearable, and beads of perspiration gathered quickly on Mary’s forehead and trickled down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, knowing if they didn’t find water soon, they would be in big trouble.

Little Joe was her primary concern, but she could see from Amanda’s weary expression that she needed rest and water, too.

Mary leaned over her saddle and spoke to Thunder as he walked listlessly alongside her horse. From the way he was panting, it was obvious that he, too, was thirsty. “Find water!” Mary commanded. “Find water now!”

The dog seemed to understand, for he perked up his ears, wagged his tail, and quickly lit out on his own, disappearing among the dry sage brush.

They hadn’t ridden far before the dog was back, barking loudly and urging them to follow.

Mary drove her mare forward, along with Jim’s horse, which now carried some of the pelts. Amanda did the same, and the pack mules trailed slowly behind, in need of quenching their thirst.