Frontier Agreement

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.

Her mother smiled at her softly, then turned and reached for the fabric. “The officers made a gift to you,” Evening Sky said. “The one with the three-corner hat said it is for leggings, but I think he meant to say the word dress.”

A dress? Claire remembered the indignation she’d felt and shown to Mr. Lafayette when he mentioned payment for her services. The Mandan part of her said dried corn or venison would have been a more useful gift, but the French side of her appreciated the gesture. The thick scarlet broadcloth was beautiful, and it had been a long time since she had worn anything besides animal skin.

“It is a kind and generous gift,” Claire replied. “I will be certain to thank them.”

“It reminds me of the bright berries your father used to fill our cabin with at Christmastime.”

“Indeed.” Claire sighed over the memory. Just a few days from now would mark the celebration of the Savior’s birth, the salvation offered for all who believed. The moccasins Evening Sky was crafting were a present for her brother just for the occasion. She had hoped by offering that gift, he would better understand the gift that God had offered him.

“I shall make a dress for you for Christmas,” Evening Sky insisted.

Claire was deeply touched but wanted to tell her not to go to the trouble. Such an article of clothing was unnecessary and certainly impractical for the life she now lived, but she could see the determination in Evening Sky’s eyes, the desire to show love, to give Claire some semblance of the life she had once shared with her beloved father. She sensed how desperately Claire longed for such, especially tonight.

Running Wolf and the rest of their family would not celebrate Christmas, and now, given what had just happened, Claire wondered if her uncle would even tolerate their prayers and gifts, their lack of participation in certain tribal customs.

Heaviness weighed upon her once more. Faith battled fear, and for the moment the latter was winning. Yes, God had protected her tonight. Would He continue to do so? She had been offered up to strangers by her own flesh and blood. Mr. Lafayette and the American captains had defended her honor, but the day would come when she and her mother would have to return to the village, return to Running Wolf’s lodge. The ice on the Missouri would eventually melt. What lay in store for her then?

Chapter Four

Pierre lay in the darkness, unable to sleep. It wasn’t the snores filling the enlisted men’s quarters that kept him awake. It was the thought of Miss Manette lying in the cabin next door. Had she fallen asleep or was she, like him, staring wide-eyed at the timber ceiling, wondering what the sunrise would bring? Was she even thinking of him at all?

Probably not, he thought, nor should she be. He told himself he need not think of her any further, either. His captains had acted honorably on her behalf. They had issued orders stating no soldier was to make any trade with Running Wolf. I should leave the matter in their hands.

But he couldn’t stop himself from feeling concerned. Never in his life had Pierre felt such a kinship with another person as he had when he’d learned of her uncle’s plan. Never before had he found himself praying so fervently for a person he scarcely knew.

All was calm now, but eventually Miss Manette would leave the protection of this fort. By spring the expedition would be on their way. Then what? What of the next visitors to this land? Will her uncle seek to broker a deal with one of them? Pierre’s indignation burned. He and the rest of the men had been warned not to interfere in Indian affairs, that the consequences could be disastrous, not only to them but also to any other trader who would later venture this way. But I will not see her returned to a man who treats her with such disregard. Upon my word, I will not, for she clearly did not wish to be bound to her uncle’s plan any more than I had wished to be part of my father’s. She should be given a choice in whom she would marry...if she wishes to marry at all.

But just what he would do to encourage that, Pierre did not know. Advocating such a radical idea in New Orleans, let alone an Indian village, would surely be met with contempt.

He tossed and turned for hours. When reveille sounded, Pierre slipped from his bedding with no more rest gained than when he had entered it, and Miss Manette was no less on his mind. Shivering like his comrades, he hurried to layer on his furs and buckskin. The cold, however, still seeped through his clothing. This morning the mercury stood at twenty below.

We wanted to test our mettle, he thought. These temperatures and trials will certainly do so.

Puling on his last layer of clothing, Pierre pushed open the door and stepped into the snow. Despite the stinging cold, the fort was stirring to life. On the catwalk, the changing of the guard was taking place, the sentries gladly relinquishing their posts to the morning men. To Pierre’s left, the blacksmith was stoking his fire. When the men were all assembled, Captain Clark issued the orders for the day. Breakfast was then served.

Pierre kept a casual watch, but neither Miss Manette nor her mother appeared for their allotted portion of food. Were they still sleeping, or did embarrassment over last night’s events keep them inside?

After swallowing the last of his breakfast, Pierre knocked upon the women’s door.

It creaked open. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to find this morning, but gone was the trembling child from the previous night. A stoic expression filled the mademoiselle’s face. Dark circles lined her eyes. She had slept as little as he.

“You are unwell,” Pierre said.

She shook her head. “Not I.” Slipping through the door, she shut it behind her. A gust of wind tightened her face. She pulled her buffalo robe closer about her. “It is my mother,” she said. “My uncle—” She rephrased. “The events of the preceding evening were too much for her. She is exhausted.”

Obviously she did not wish to relive the details that had occurred, so Pierre made no further mention of them. He felt bad for her mother. “Perhaps a little food? I could bring you both something.”

“Thank you, but I am not hungry. I suggested that my mother eat, but she says she has no stomach for it.”

Then she must be in a bad way, he thought. This cold made him ravenously hungry. “Shall I seek Captain Lewis? Perhaps he has a remedy—”

“No, but thank you. My mother insists all she needs is rest.”

Pierre nodded. He would see to it, then, that she could do so. “I shall leave you to care for her.” He bowed to her formally. “If I may be of any assistance, do not hesitate to ask.”

A measure of surprise skittered across her face, followed by a look of shy pleasure. Apparently she’d expected him to insist that they complete their duties. Yes, the language study was important, but so was her mother’s health. Surely the captains would understand.

“Thank you, Mr. Lafayette. You are very kind.”

It was a simple expression of appreciation, genuine no doubt, but little more than that. Yet for some strange reason, Pierre was warmed by it. “Well, then...a good morning to you.” He tipped his hat, started to turn.

“If I may...”

The uncharacteristic softness in her voice stopped him in his tracks. He looked back. Falling snowflakes dusted her rich, dark hair, making it look as though she was wearing a crown of diamonds.

“I shall look over the parchments from yesterday and consider what words you may wish to add.”

So she desired to be of assistance to him. Evidently she was warming to him, as well, or at least becoming less distrustful. He was glad. Perhaps now they could work together as friends. In the long run it would certainly be beneficial to maintaining peaceful relations with the tribe and the expedition if they could do so.

And beyond that, she was an interesting woman. She was Indian, but she was also French. In some small way, she reminded him of his sister, delicate but tough. For all of his want of adventure, there were times when he missed his family.

“I would be grateful for whatever words you think beneficial,” he said.

With a quick curtsy she then stepped back inside, shut the door solidly in front of him. For some strange reason he continued to stare at it. An odd feeling of intrigue and discomfort flittered through him.

He marched to his officers’ quarters. With this change of plans, perhaps Captain Lewis might now allow him to join Captain Clark’s hunting party. To Pierre’s disappointment, however, Clark had already departed the fort. Lewis sent him instead to split wood on the parade ground. Working within sight of Mademoiselle Manette’s door did little to clear her from his mind.

* * *

“You should have let him come in,” Evening Sky whispered from beneath the buffalo skins. “He has tasks to complete.”

Claire laid the parchments on the desk and stirred the small fire. “I told him I would work on what I could. He did not insist on being present.”

“He is a kind gentleman.”

“Yes. I think so.”

“I’m pleased you are letting go of your fear. Not all white men are like Mr. Granger.”

Claire nodded slowly as she studied her mother’s face in the candlelight. Her coloring did not look good. This is more than the strain of last night, she thought.

“Shall I make you some tea?” Claire offered. “Something to ward off the chill?”

Evening Sky shook her head. “No, Bright Star. Not today.” She grimaced. The expression was almost imperceptible, but Claire recognized pain when she saw it.

“Where does it hurt, mother? Your legs?”

“No, child.”

“Your loins?”

Evening Sky simply closed her eyes.

“The Frenchman offered to ask for a remedy from his captain. Shall I fetch him?”

“No, child. Do not bother the men.” Evening Sky shifted beneath the skins, turned toward the wall. Claire understood the movement. It was a sign that her mother did not want to be questioned further. Claire would honor her wish, but she wasn’t the least bit happy about doing so.

If I do not know exactly what is wrong, then how can I help her?

Whispering a prayer, she then went to the desk. She unrolled Mr. Lafayette’s parchments and, after studying them for a few moments, wrote down a few more phrases of friendship and some words that would be useful in trade.

Trade. Her heart squeezed. She remembered all too vividly what Running Wolf had wished to trade last night. How could he? she thought. He is my uncle. My mother’s brother. My own flesh and blood. Being given in marriage to a fellow tribesman was bad enough, but at least she could understand his reasoning. That was the way things were done here in the wilderness, and it was an arrangement that would benefit the tribe. She might not like it. She might seek to change it, but for now that was how it was done.

In a land of war, one way to assure the continued existence of the tribe was by begetting new families. But to offer me to strangers, to men whose customs are so different from his own...? Did he think she would be happier bound to a white man, or did he simply wish to be rid of her? Had her curious ways, her faith, been a thorn in his flesh for too long?

She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes but quickly steeled her resolve. There was no point thinking such things. She was safe for now. There was still time to find a Christian husband. God could do mighty things. As much as she feared being bound to a man to whom she was not well-suited, she was not against marriage. What would it be like to know love, to share a deep, abiding commitment, to experience the joy her parents had once had? What would it be like to be held tightly on cold, dark nights, have words of endearment whispered in her ear?

But I will live without such things if it means being asked to marry a man who does not serve God.

Claire cast a glance in Evening Sky’s direction. She was now sleeping peacefully. Claire returned to her parchments and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Outside someone was chopping wood. Claire scratched her list in time with the rhythmic thwacking of the ax. Morning moved toward noon. There was no window in her hut, no way to mark the sun’s advance across the sky, but Claire could estimate the time by the sounds. She could hear the second changing of the guard.

She kept on writing. The captains wished to learn about the Mandan’s religious beliefs, so Claire gave an account of their beliefs on creation, the great flood and the story of the Lone Man. Her heart grew heavier with each paragraph, considerably as she listed out the details of the Okipa ceremony.