Shannon Farrington - Frontier Agreement

God, forgive me. Help me...

Evening Sky kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Come,” she said. “We mustn’t keep our hosts waiting.”

With an uneasy sigh and the whisper of another prayer, Claire assisted her mother to the door.

Chapter Three

Claire silently ate the meat that had been doled out to her. Once again she was under the scrutiny of those around her. She could feel their stares. But for the two American captains who approached her to test a few of their newly acquired words, welcome, thank you, eat, peace, Claire spoke to no one.

Mr. Lafayette watched her from across the cooking fire but did not venture any conversation. Claire’s mother, however, having noticed a torn seam in his coat, got up from her place and made signs to the Frenchman. With quicker understanding this time than he had shown during Black Cat’s offer of assistance, he shrugged off his coat. With a grateful smile and a merci, he handed it to Claire’s mother.

Returning to her place beside her daughter, Evening Sky drew out a needle and a length of sinew from her deerskin pouch. At once she began mending the torn seam. The men crowded around the fire continued to stare. Claire marveled once again at her mother’s quiet grace. Her words repeated through her mind. “You cannot govern how others seek to treat you any more than you can restrain the rain clouds. All that you can control is your response.”

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.