Frontier Agreement. Shannon Farrington

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СКАЧАТЬ Claire’s mother was his own flesh and blood and because her husband had been a friend to the Mandan people, but more than once he had stated he would not worship François Manette’s supposed all-powerful God or His son, Jesus. “I will not become like white men.”

      Neither Claire nor her mother wished their Mandan family to forget their heritage. All they wanted was for their tribe to know the true creator, to experience His life, the life He intended, free from superstitious fear, free from disease propagated by sin.

      But truth be told, there was another reason Claire was desperate for the conversion of her family. She was of marriageable age—well beyond it, in fact, by tribal standards. Upon her arrival in the village, her uncle had given her one year to mourn her father. “After that, you will be given to a husband.”

      Claire inwardly sighed. She, like any young woman her age, wanted a home and a family of her own. But how am I to wed a man who does not share my faith? Without such, there can be no true union of heart or mind or spirit. Her parents had shared such a love. She wanted the same.

      If Running Wolf were to come to faith in Christ, he would understand that. Then he would not insist I wed an unbeliever.

      “Perhaps, Bright Star,” Little Flower said, referring to Claire by her Mandan name, “you will find a husband among the white men of the fort.”

      Claire felt herself flush in spite of the cold. Little Flower hadn’t known Claire’s thoughts, but the subject of her eligibility was obviously on her cousin’s mind. Had Running Wolf enlisted her for help? Was that why she had smiled at so many of the men at the fort?

      Little Flower then giggled. “You must admit, they are handsome. Especially the one who speaks in your tongue.”

      Claire flushed even further. She was thankful for the harsh wind. Its sting concealed the true reason for the fire in her face. Yes, she had noticed the Frenchman and yes, he was handsome. Broad shoulders, raven-black hair, eyes the color of charcoal. He had noticed her, as well, and had apparently liked what he saw. Which is all the more reason to avoid him.

      “I do not seek a handsome man alone, Little Flower, but one who worships my God.”

      “Perhaps he does, Bright Star.”

      As intriguing as the possibility of that thought was, Claire quickly dismissed it. Even if Mr. Lafayette was a Christian, even if he did take an honorable interest in her, what good could possibly come of it? Marriage still wouldn’t be possible between them since the expedition would be leaving in the spring.

      The best Claire could hope for was that his conduct, and that of his comrades, would not snuff out any light she and her mother were trying to kindle.

      * * *

      Two days later, having just returned from Captain Clark’s hunting excursion, Pierre stepped into the fort. He arrived just in time to see Toussaint Charbonneau storming out of it. The Frenchman was clearly angry about something, angry enough to ignore Pierre’s greeting, angry enough to outpace his heavily pregnant teenage wife.

      Sacagawea struggled to catch him. Pierre couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. He doffed his cap at her. She offered him a sweet smile and hurried on.

      Captain Lewis was standing at the entrance to his quarters, arms folded across his chest, looking rather miffed himself. He and the trapper must have quarreled over something, Pierre thought. Again.

      As Pierre approached, the obvious frown on the captain’s face shifted to its customary stoic expression.

      “I see Captain Clark’s party has returned,” Lewis said. “Was the hunt successful?”

      “Indeed, sir. Ten buffalo. They are being brought in by sled as we speak.”

      Lewis nodded pensively. “Has the captain determined what is to be done with them?”

      “Yes, sir. He thought it best to take them to the main Mandan village first since it was a joint hunting party.”

      Lewis nodded again. “Tell Captain Clark that the men should return when the delivery of meat is complete.”

      “Yes, sir,” Pierre replied. He started to turn.

      “The woman,” Lewis then said, “the one who came in search of medical assistance. What is she called?”

      “Claire Manette, sir.”

      “She is fluent in French?” Captain Lewis asked.

      “I believe so, sir.”

      “When you go to the village, see if she would be kind enough to assist us with our vocabulary, since Charbonneau is unable to cooperate or agree with anyone.”

      So that was the cause of the argument. The captains had eagerly accepted Charbonneau as an interpreter because Sacagawea could speak not only the local language but also that of the mountain tribe where the expedition was headed in the spring. She dictated vocabulary to her husband, and he translated her language into French. Then, with the help of Pierre or one of the other Frenchmen, his words were translated into English for the captains.

      It was a tedious process, and Charbonneau had a tendency to argue pronunciation and the nuance of every French word rather than convey the basic messages necessary for maintaining friendly relations with the current tribe. Evidently Captain Lewis’s patience was wearing thin, and he was prepared to replace the disagreeable Frenchman if he could.

      “Ask Miss Manette to come to the fort,” Lewis told Pierre.

      The memory of her sharply spoken insistence that she could indeed understand English crossed his mind. For one split second, he grinned.

      “You find that assignment agreeable, Mr. Lafayette?” Captain Lewis said.

      “No, sir,” Pierre said quickly, feeling himself redden. What exactly had made him grin? “That is, yes, sir. At your command, sir.”

      Dismissed, Pierre instantly turned for the front gate. Make a fool of yourself, why don’t you, Lafayette?

      Trekking across the snow-covered ground, Pierre recalled the adventure from which he had just returned. They had been hunting buffalo—huge, hot-breathing, massive, hairy beasts—and he had been the one to fire the shots that had brought not one but two of the animals to their knees. Pierre clutched his musket. A feeling of pride, of accomplishment surged through him. God had blessed him with a hunter’s prowess, and he was making the most of it.

      And I am determined to continue to do so. Of all the animals he had hunted thus far, there was one he wanted above all others—the great brown bear.

      The Indians insisted the creature was like no other, a massive grizzly beast with claws strong enough to mortally wound a man in one swipe, or break him in half with a single bite. Yet as dangerous as the bear seemed, every man on the expedition wanted to see one. Pierre was determined to be the first man to bring one down.

      And then, when I return from doing so with a deed for a land grant in hand, property of my own and plenty of stories of grand accomplishments to share, my father won’t think my adventures a waste of time.

      At the riverbank, Pierre climbed into a waiting pirogue. The small boat carried him toward the opposite shore. He navigated СКАЧАТЬ