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And these men have souls, Claire thought, like my Mandan family. If they do not know Christ...then perhaps she had been placed at this fort for higher purpose than vocabulary. After all, peace between the neighboring tribes and with the white men could be achieved only if true peace came to each heart.
She wanted to walk God’s path. If His path meant assisting a fort full of soldiers, responding kindly to their curious stares and ignorant remarks, then so be it.
Charity slowly slaked her fear. Looking to Mr. Lafayette, she said, “Please tell your men if they have clothing that needs to be repaired, we will gladly see to it.”
He relayed the message. At once the soldiers scurried to their quarters, returning with shirts, stockings and various items of buckskin and broadcloth. As the articles piled at her feet, Claire silently withdrew her own needle from her pouch and set to work. Curiosity soon waned. The men stopped staring. The gentle hum of conversation drifted about, some of it French, some of it English. Most of it centered on hunting elk, buffalo and the prize they all seemed to want most—the great brown bear.
Claire couldn’t help but remember her father’s stories of the beast. He’d been eager to track one as well, until the day came when one tracked him.
“I barely escaped with my own hide!” he’d said with a laugh.
Though the danger had been deadly, Claire smiled at the image of her robust father running for his life, shedding every item he carried to hasten his speed.
“The Lord surely looks after drunks and fools,” he’d said. To which her mother had playfully chided, “Neither of which is a good thing to be.”
One of the soldiers produced a fiddle and began to play. As music filled the air, the men moved about, some to quarters, some to clean their muskets. The tensions of the day unwound to the rest of eventide. Claire felt herself beginning to settle, as well—until Mr. Lafayette approached her.
“You and your mother are very kind to take on such a duty,” he said. “Most of our men are skilled tanners, but our clothing does not wear well. The river takes its toll.”
“I imagine so,” Claire replied.
He sat down beside her. Claire made her best attempt at a welcoming smile, then kept on with her work.
“I saw an Indian woman in a village south of here making holes in the buffalo skin with a sharp piece of bone,” he said. “She then wove the sinew through with her fingers.”
Claire nodded. “There are few sewing needles in this land. The women who have them have come by them by way of British or French traders.”
His dark eyebrows arched. “Are there many British traders?”
Claire might have been only a woman, and one far removed from European entanglements, at that, but she recognized political wariness when she saw it. Frenchmen did not like Englishmen, and from what she remembered of life in Illinois, Americans did not like them, either.
“There are a few British,” she replied evenly. “They come every now and again.”
“And do your people acquire many supplies from them?”
Claire considered her words carefully. She was certain her comments would end up in a report to the captains, and she wanted to make the most of it. “The Mandans trade openly with anyone who treats them fairly and justly. My sewing implements, however, as well as my mother’s, did not come from the British traders. They were gifts from my father.”
He nodded. Whether in relief or approval, she did not know. “He was well-known in this village?”
“Yes, and respected by all.”
A call from the sentinel on the catwalk captured Claire’s attention, as well as everyone else’s around her. The music and conversation stopped. A warrior was approaching. One apparently riding the captain’s horse.
“It seems your uncle has come to pay you and your mother a visit,” Mr. Lafayette said.
Is something amiss? “So it seems.” Claire laid aside the clothing and stood. The gate opened. In rode Running Wolf, looking stately and dignified as usual. Spotted Eagle sat behind him. Noticing her at the fire, Claire’s young cousin slid to the ground and immediately came running toward her. He fell upon her and her mother at once with kisses. Claire treasured every one of them, for she knew the time would soon come when he would think himself too old to display such affection.
She scooped him into her arms. “You wiggle like a bear cub,” she said. “What brings you to the fort?”
“I came to wish you well in your new life.”
She laughed slightly. He had thought she was leaving him. She felt bad that her supposed departure had caused him sadness, but it warmed her heart to know that she had been missed. “Silly child,” she said with a laugh. “Do not fret. My work here at the fort is only for a few days. I shall return to the lodge soon.”
Spotted Eagle shook his head. “Uncle said he wishes to make a trade with the captain.”
Trade? The word made her breath hitch.
“What kind of trade?” Evening Sky asked.
“His horse for Claire.”
Pain pierced Claire’s heart like an arrow, and fear and panic quickly spread through her veins. So this had been her uncle’s reason for sending her to the fort! He had purposed to sell her as a squaw, a slave to the American captain. She hadn’t doubted his ability to consider such a thing if she’d failed to find a husband within her tribe in the time he permitted, but he had promised her a year of freedom before he would give her in marriage. She still had six months to go!
Claire could not move. In fact, she could barely breathe. Evening Sky, however, seemed infused with fire. Though she had grown weaker in the months since her husband’s death, she now flew to Running Wolf with speed. Spotted Eagle quickly followed her.
Oh, God...please...please help...
Mr. Lafayette had witnessed the entire exchange with little understanding of the details, but he clearly recognized something was wrong. “What is it?” he asked. “Is there to be an attack?”
Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought that. Evening Sky was making such a commotion that Captain Clark now strode to where she and Running Wolf stood. He had his musket in hand. Captain Lewis for the moment remained at the fire, but his taut face and rigid stance told Claire he was poised to order action if necessary.
Claire was trembling, but she did her best to gather her senses. The lives of many could depend on it. “You are not in danger,” she insisted. “There is no impending attack.”
Mr. Lafayette quickly relayed her words to Lewis. Still, the man stood guard. “What is it, then?” the captain asked. “Why does Running Wolf come? Why is Madame Manette so angry with him?”
Claire swallowed hard. Her cheeks burned with shame. “I-it is a f-family matter,” she stammered. She simply couldn’t bear to tell the captain exactly why her uncle had come. What would he think of her people if he heard of such a plan? Worse, what if he agreed to it?
“It’s obviously a very distressing family matter,” Mr. Lafayette said. “You are trembling.” He reached for her hand. Claire’s immediate instinct was to jerk it free from his grasp, but she found she had not the strength to do so. His hand was rough and calloused, but his grip was gentle.
“Perhaps you should again sit,” he said.
She did so. Kneeling before her, he still kept hold of her hand. “Tell me, how may I assist you?” he asked. “I’m at your service.”
The concern in his voice circumvented her defenses. Would he somehow be able to intervene on her behalf? One glance at her mother told Claire the woman was unsuccessful in changing her brother’s mind. Running Wolf was gesturing toward Claire, an adamant look on his chiseled face.
“Mademoiselle?”
With shame burning her cheeks, she told Lafayette what was taking place. The Frenchman’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then they flashed in anger. “A trade? You for a horse?”
He relayed the translation at once. Captain Lewis immediately turned on his heel, strode toward Running Wolf.
Mr. Lafayette squeezed her hand. “The captain will handle this,” he insisted.
No doubt he will, Claire thought, but just how and at what cost remained to be seen.
* * *
Pierre had known right away that something was terribly wrong. The vexing personality had instantly given way to a vulnerable creature in need of protection. Her small, delicate fingers trembled beneath his, and when she finally explained what was happening, he understood why. How dare her uncle seek to sell her! His father had once tried to persuade him to take a certain bride, one whose family name and fortune would benefit his own, but as a man, Pierre had the luxury to refuse.
I was able to retain my freedom, but odds are she will not be able to do so.
If she struck out on her own, she’d have little chance for finding gainful, meaningful employment. She’d probably end up the captive of some drunken fur trader or worse, a slave to the Sioux.
Standing, he made himself a shield between her and her uncle. The code of a gentleman, let alone Christian decency, would not allow him to stand by and watch such a thing take place. His captains had warned him and the other men of the expedition not to interfere with tribal customs because doing so could upset the delicate balance of diplomacy they had achieved. Pierre, however, was prepared to defend her freedom if need be even if no one else would. Though he desperately hoped such measures would not be necessary.
Madame Manette stood beside her imposing brother, the young child Spotted Eagle protectively in her grasp. Running Wolf was intensely gesturing to both captains. A scowl filled his face. The Americans looked no more cordial. Lewis stood with his arms crossed. Clark held tightly to his musket. To their right, Pierre glimpsed Sergeants Ordway and Gass. They were poised to take action should either captain signal for it.
A standoff was underway. I wanted adventure, he thought. It appears I have found it.
One of Pierre’s fellow voyagers sidled up to him. “What did you do, Lafayette?” he asked with half a laugh. “Steal some warrior’s squaw?”
“Certainly not,” Pierre insisted, his teeth clenched. “And you had better have the sense to realize the danger in doing so.” The man had recently been the cause of his own entanglement with a Mandan woman and a jealous husband, one Captain Clark had been forced to settle.
Women could very well be the death of this expedition, Pierre thought. Yet he could hardly blame the girl behind him. She has obviously had no part in this.
Pierre watched as Captain Lewis turned for his quarters. After a few moments, the man returned and presented Running Wolf with a small ax and several other useful tools. The Mandan warrior did not look pleased. He directed his frown toward his niece. Coming again to her feet, Mademoiselle Manette stepped to Pierre’s shoulder. She held her uncle’s look with one of quiet strength and apparent courage, but he could hear the unevenness of her breathing. She was scared to death.
God help her, he thought. Help us all...
Running Wolf turned and mounted the captain’s horse. Signaling for Spotted Eagle to join him, the two rode from the fort. Watching them go, Pierre knew not what to think. He’d been certain either the horse would remain or the women would depart.
What has just happened? Has Captain Lewis actually made the trade? Had his superior officer just purchased a maidservant? A wife? Pierre felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Mademoiselle Manette drew in a sharp breath but other than that made no sound or protest. She simply lowered her gaze to the ground, like a condemned prisoner accepting her fate.
The main gate now barred, Captain Lewis directed Madame Manette toward his quarters. Captain Clark escorted her. Lewis then approached the fire where Pierre and the younger woman stood. He stole another glance at her. Cheeks red, she still stared at the ground.
“Lafayette,” Lewis said.
“Sir?”
“Please tell her that she has nothing to fear. Her uncle has been placated, although I had to deliver her payment to him for the services she rendered today.”
So she hasn’t been bought. Pierre heaved a sigh. However, as far as her uncle having been placated, the warrior had looked anything but. Pierre was certain further trouble with him loomed on the horizon. Still, Pierre moved to translate what the captain had said, forgetting once again that the mademoiselle was capable of understanding for herself. This time, though, she gave no look of annoyance.
Instead she curtsied, rather unsteadily, to both him and the captain. “Merci,” she replied, her voice wavering.
“What happens now, sir?” Pierre asked, for her benefit as well as his own.
“She and her mother will remain here,” Lewis said. “She will finish her task.” He turned on his heel, marched away without further word. Pierre supposed he couldn’t fault the man for doing so. He was, after all, a soldier, one use to issuing commands and expecting them to be obeyed. Rigidity and routine were necessary, especially on such an expedition, but Pierre couldn’t help but think that in this case, a bit more compassion was merited.
Did the young woman wish to stay? Did she wish to continue her work after what she had just witnessed? But on the other hand, if she left, then where could she go?
She was now gathering up the soldiers’ clothing, the pieces she’d been mending. Pierre bent to help her. “Merci,” she said once more. The tremble in her voice remained.
Carrying the items, he escorted her toward her quarters. Part of him was in mind to stand guard outside her door all night, but he knew that was unnecessary. Lewis and Clark had handled the situation, at least for now, and there would be sentries posted at the gate all night.
Still, he felt the need to say something.
“I apologize for what just took place,” he said, “but I am certain you will be well-protected at this fort.”
She seemed to appreciate his apology, but he wasn’t so certain she believed him about her safety. That look of vulnerability remained in her eyes.
“You have shown me much kindness today,” she said, “and for that, I thank you.”
He had tried to show her kindness from the first moment he’d met her, but she didn’t seem to realize that. “Have no fear, mademoiselle,” Pierre said. “Your safety and that of your mother’s will be my personal concern.”
For a moment, her green eyes held him, pinned him like a butterfly beneath glass, a creature bereft of freedom. He had little fear when it came to venturing into the wilds, but this was a frightening feeling. Still, he could not look away.
“You have already demonstrated great concern, Mr. Lafayette,” she said, “and for that, again, I thank you.”
As sincere as he was about protecting her, he was glad when she took the clothing from him, stepped inside her quarters and shut the door.
* * *
With dutiful resolve, Claire replaced the tallow candle that had burned down to a nub, stirred the small fire and then sorted through the soldiers’ clothing. Despite what had just happened, she was determined to continue with her tasks, determined to walk the path before her with faith and courage.
If I give in to fear, to self-pity, it shows my lack of trust for the Lord. If I, who claim to know Him, cannot trust Him, then how can I expect others to do so?
Regrettably she knew she’d already given in to such fears. Her anxiety must have shown on her face or Mr. Lafayette would not have spoken to her the way he did. He knew she was frightened. So did her mother.
The moment Evening Sky returned to the room, she laid aside the bolt of fabric she had been carrying and came to her daughter at once. Wrapping her arms around Claire, she cradled her close, rocking her as if she were still a fragile child.
“Oh, my Bright Star. How sorry I am. How sorry. Never in all my thoughts have I imagined my brother capable of breaking his word. He promised me he would never offer you to a man before a year, and even at that, not without my blessing. Forgive me. Forgive me for ever bringing you to such a place.”
Yes, her mother had brought her to Running Wolf’s lodge, but they’d had no choice. There was nowhere else to go. Tears spilled down Claire’s cheeks, a release of pent-up emotions. “Did he say why he had changed the terms of our agreement?”
“He claims he has not.”
“But he has indeed!”
“He claims that we misunderstood him, that the time of twelve moons of mourning began not at our arrival but at the time of your father’s passing.”
Her father had died last December. They had remained in Illinois for six months before traveling here. If Running Wolf was basing his calculations on that, then her year was complete. “Oh, Mother! What am I to do?”
Evening Sky wiped her own tears, took her daughter’s hand in hers. “The Great Spirit has been our shield and defender in the past, and in Him we must continue to have faith. He provided safety for you at this fort tonight. The dark-haired Frenchman guarded you, and the American officers succeeded in sending Running Wolf away.”
Claire vividly remembered the look on Mr. Lafayette’s face, the feel of his fingers over hers. His hands were rough, gnarled, but they had conveyed tenderness and compassion. He’d displayed true Christian charity. He’d defended a woman he barely knew, and he had offered his assistance without command or promise of reward.
“I did not understand their words, but I could see their hearts,” Evening Sky said. “The officers did not like giving your earnings to my brother. But I believe because of their willingness to do so, Running Wolf was willing to grant you a reprieve from marriage.”
Hope quickened in Claire’s chest. “A reprieve? For how long?”
“Until the ice on the Missouri melts and the white men go their own way.”
This meant March or early April at the most.
“Much could still happen in that space of time,” her mother reminded her.
“Yes,” Claire replied, though barely above a whisper. She tried to have faith. Much could happen. A warrior of the tribe could come to salvation or her uncle could, and then he would understand why I do not wish to marry outside my faith.
