Woman of Courage (28 page)

When breakfast was over, Buck reclined comfortably on a mat in front of the fire. He’d been up since dawn and hadn’t slept well the night before. Thoughts of the two women who were in his charge had kept him from getting more than a few hours’ sleep. That, coupled with the warmth of the fire and a full belly, made him feel drowsy and ready for a much-needed nap.

As noises and mutters from surrounding camps wafted over his mind, Buck drifted off. He hadn’t been sleeping long, when the sound of Amanda’s voice jolted him awake. He turned to look. She sat on a log a few feet to his right, her long, golden hair hanging freely down her back, cheeks pink and glowing. She looked at him expectantly, with blue eyes shimmering like pools of liquid sunshine scattered on a cloudless day.

Something indefinable passed between them, but Buck shrugged it away.
This will not be easy
, he thought.
The white woman has a way of looking at me, and seeing her every day until we get to the Spalding Mission could be my undoing
.

But what would become of Amanda and Mary if he didn’t take them? They could die in the wilderness by themselves. Mary was tough and used to roughing it, but Amanda wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. Buck was amazed that she had made it this far without giving up. Maybe she had as much courage as Mary did. He thought about the encounters the women had with Seth Burrows, and how he’d saved them the first time, and Thunder had interceded the second time. Buck wished he’d been there to see the whole thing. There could be other men like Seth out on the trail, not to mention the danger from wild animals and hostile Indians. The ordeal with Seth had reinforced in Buck the need to accompany the women to the Spalding Mission.

Mary, who’d been in the tent feeding the baby, joined them by the fire. “You trade furs yet, Buck?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll do it soon, and then we can be on our way.”

“My people not go south until
Wa-Wa-Mai-Khal,”
Mary said. “If we leave soon we be there when they arrive.”

“Wa-Wa-Mai-Khal?” Amanda repeated.

“When summer is over and salmon spawn,” Mary explained. “When they return to homeland, along Clearwater.”

“I look forward to meeting your family,” Amanda said, smiling at Mary. “I am sure they will be excited to see you.”

Mary nodded. “It be good to see Gray Eagle’s family, too. They need know he died trying to help me.”

“Will it be hard for you to tell ’em?” Buck asked.

Mary nodded.

“You loved Gray Eagle very much, didn’t you?” Amanda questioned.

“No need talk about that now,” Mary said, rising to her feet. “He dead, same as Jim.” She slowly shook her head. “I will love no man again. They who love me end up dead.” With a grunt, she disappeared into the tent.

Buck could see from the sorrowful look on Amanda’s face that she felt Mary’s pain. This woman of courage sitting close to him was also a woman who cared about people and was sensitive to their feelings. She was nothing like Silas Lothard. Was it possible that she really was a Christian, who lived by the Bible and not her own selfish ways? Well, even if she was, Buck had no desire to have religion crammed down his throat. Since he’d been on his own, Buck had done things his way. He saw no reason to change.

A
manda and her companions had just ridden into a meadow dotted with delicate yellow and white wildflowers, when she glanced up at the sky and noticed how blue and beautiful it was. She was glad she had someone to share the glory of God’s creation with. Since her father had died, she’d been lonely, but having Mary and now Buck to talk to had brightened her days. Then there was Mary’s precious little boy. What a joy he was, and such a good baby, too. He hardly cried or fussed, unless he needed to be fed. It was hard not to feel the desire to be married and have children of her own.

“You awfully quiet today. What you thinkin’ about?” Mary asked, moving her horse beside Amanda’s.

“Oh, just wondering how it would be if I had a husband and children of my own,” Amanda answered honestly, swaying with the horse’s smooth gait. She sighed. “But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably not meant to be.”

“How come?”

“My call is to be a missionary, and I need to keep my focus on that.”

“Can you be a miss-on-ary and wife at same time?” Mary questioned.

“I suppose, if I found a husband who shared my beliefs.”

“Pretty woman like you find good husband. Husband give good bride price.”

“I don’t understand,” Amanda said.

“Many horses given to bride’s father.”

Amanda smiled. “White people don’t do it that way, Mary.”

“How then?” Mary asked.

“The man first asks the woman to marry him; then he usually gets her parents’ approval. When they marry, the bride sometimes has a dowry.”

“What is dowry?”

“It can be money or personal property. A dowry is given to the man she marries.”

Mary’s forehead creased. “Whites have strange ways.”

“Perhaps that is because you do not know us that well, and don’t fully understand our ways.”

“Many things about Husband I not understand. Jim hard to figure out, but he was good provider. He not like some white men. They act like they better than Indian.” Mary frowned deeply. “Last night I have dream about white men taking our land.”

“Oh Mary, I hope that dream never comes true,” Amanda said with feeling. “It wouldn’t be right for the white man to take what belongs to the Indians.”

“May not be right, but I believe it happen.” Mary slowly shook her head. “Sad day it will be, though.”

They continued their ride in silence for the better part of the day, and when they stopped for a much-needed rest and afternoon meal, the weather had turned unbearably hot, making Amanda feel irritable. She wished they could ride at a more leisurely pace, because keeping up with Buck’s energetic horse all morning had been a challenge. Upon seeing the river only a few yards away, it was all she could do not to wade right in.

Buck watched as Amanda wiped the perspiration from her forehead, then fanned her face with the brim of her father’s hat, which she’d worn today. Mary, too, looked overheated, as sweat beaded on her forehead as she sponged Little Joe with a wet cloth.

“Do ya wanna stay awhile longer, or start riding?” Buck asked, feeling concern for their welfare.

“It would be nice to stay awhile,” Amanda admitted. “I know it’s too early to stop for the night, but if I could just sit and dangle my feet in the river a few minutes, I’d feel better.”

Buck nodded.

Amanda headed straight for the water and took a seat on a large, flat rock. After removing her boots and long stockings, she rolled the pant legs on her father’s trousers up to her knees. Stretching out her bare legs, she let them dangle freely in the cool, refreshing water. Buck watched as Mary, with Little Joe strapped on her back, waded into the water.

“Water feel good,” Mary said, smiling at Amanda.

“Yes, it sure does,” Amanda replied.

Buck liked looking at the white woman, with eyes as blue as the sky, and he hated himself for it. He felt a physical attraction to her, but there was something more that went beyond fleshly appearance. Amanda seemed capable of looking into his soul, and that made Buck nervous, for he was afraid of what she might see. It was like she could tell what he was thinking. He continued to stare at Amanda as she closed her eyes. Buck knew that being out here in the hot sun could dull one’s senses, unbalancing a person’s thinking.
My senses must really be messed up
, he thought as he contemplated the idea of diving under the water, then sneaking up behind Amanda and pulling her in.

Buck had to turn away. The sooner he stopped thinking about her, the better it would be.

“Aren’t you hot?” Amanda called to him.

He turned back to answer, hating to admit how refreshing the water looked and how much fun it would have been to frolic there beside her, but Buck’s stubbornness outweighed his need to relax. “Not really, but there will be many hot days ahead, so cool down now while ya can,” he said.

She smiled with a look of contentment. “I know it’s not very ladylike, but this feels almost heavenly.”

“Heavenly?” He moved closer, hunkering down next to her.

“You know about heaven, right?”

“I know about the Book of Heaven.”

She shook her head, and gave the water a little kick with her toes. “The Book of Heaven, as you call it, is the Bible. It’s God’s Holy Word. Heaven is where God the Father, and His Son, Jesus, live.”

Buck’s dark eyebrows shot up. “God lives in a book?”

Amanda laughed. “No, of course not. God lives in heaven.”

Buck paused to watch Mary and Little Joe. Mary had unwrapped her son and was dipping him gently in and out of the water. They all laughed as the baby squealed with delight, sending up a spray as he kicked his little feet.

“My son soon swim like fish.” Mary smiled as she swirled Little Joe in a circle. Soon his eyelids closed in slumber. “I wonder, where is heaven?” Mary questioned after she’d wrapped the boy up and put him back in the cradleboard.

“Actually,” Amanda began, “no one really knows where heaven is. However, since men of old often climbed a high mountain to speak with God, and since Jesus returned to heaven in a cloud, it is believed that heaven is up there somewhere.” She pointed toward the sky, squinting against the sun as she did so.

Buck scratched his head thoughtfully. “Do ya think God’s in the clouds?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I mean, we believe that heaven is somewhere up there. Perhaps far above the clouds,” she explained. “But even though heaven is God’s home, His Spirit resides on earth, and we can have Him living in our hearts if we only ask—”

“God can’t be in anyone’s heart,” Buck interrupted, with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, He can,” Amanda said with assurance. “God’s Son, Jesus, was sent to earth to die for man’s sins, and if we want Him to live in our heart, then we must ask Him to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

“Enough talk about God and sin! You said ya wouldn’t preach on this trip, remember?”

She gave a slow nod. “I wasn’t really preaching. I was just—”

“I see the baby’s sleeping,” Buck interrupted. “So I think it’s time we get riding again.”

Amanda opened her mouth as if to say something more, but her words were drowned out by the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Buck looked up and saw that the once cloudless sky was now filled with dark, ominous clouds. “We’ll either need to ride the storm out or sit here and wait for it to pass,” he muttered.

“A summer storm?” Amanda shivered. “I wonder what kind of destruction it will bring.”

I
f the cold water from the river hadn’t cooled Amanda off, the downpour that followed had certainly finished the job. Within minutes of the shower, she was drenched from head to toe. They had tried their best to outride the oncoming deluge. It moved too fast, though, for the horses to keep ahead of it.

Amanda clung to her saddle, keeping Buck within sight, but she couldn’t help looking back to see if the worst was still coming. Through blurry eyes she saw a whitish wall of water at the forefront of the storm. She could smell the earth as sheets of rain fell from the dark clouds above, and the wind kicked up dust as it reached the ground below.

All too soon, the heaviest part of the cloudburst was overhead, and the raindrops pummeled Amanda’s body, feeling like tiny daggers hitting her skin. Thankfully, they were traveling in another open meadow, so there would be no danger from falling trees. The lightning and thunder had ebbed, which was fortunate, because out in the open they would have been a target for lightning.

Remembering once more how her first guide had died, Amanda was thankful there was no more lightning. However, the wind and chilling rain caused Amanda’s teeth to chatter.

Buck seemed not to notice, and he rode along at a fast pace, as though trying to outrun the storm.

The weight of the water had completely saturated the brim of her father’s hat, and she felt it sliding down onto her forehead. She’d been hot and tired only an hour ago, and now she was chilled to the bone and even more exhausted than she had been before the storm. If the rain didn’t stop soon, she’d be completely waterlogged.

She glanced over at Mary. The young mother had pulled a piece of lightweight canvas over her and the baby’s head but gave no complaint about the weather. No sound came from Little Joe, either. He slept soundly.

The rain continued to pelt their bodies as they rode on for more weary miles. It was beginning to get dark by the time Buck halted the horses, and still the rain came down.

Amanda felt more like a drowned cat than a prim and proper missionary. She was quite sure that every square inch of her body was saturated. No matter how hard she tried, she seemed unable to get dried off or warmed up. Her teeth chattered hopelessly. Her hair hung in a limp mass down her back. Her arms and legs felt numb.

It wasn’t until she dismounted and stood shivering under the branches of a fir tree, that Buck finally noticed the condition she was in. “I didn’t realize you were so wet,” he said. “I’m more used to getting rained on, but you need to get dried off.”