Woman of Courage (2 page)

Papa’s remaining money would be used for supplies along the way and anything they might need once they got to Lapwai Creek in Oregon Territory, where the Spaldings had set up their mission. Amanda figured their expenses would be minimal once their journey ended and they got settled in. Unlike Henry and Eliza Spalding, who’d gone west under the direction of their mission board, Amanda and her father would receive no monetary support from their church and were pretty much on their own.

Amanda shifted in her saddle, trying to find a comfortable position, glancing at her father again. “Art thou alright?” she asked when he met her gaze. “Should we ask our guide to stop awhile so you can rest?”

“I’m a little tired, but I’ll be fine,” he said, offering her a weak smile as he pushed his dark, broad-brimmed hat farther back on his graying head. “Please do not worry. There is no need for thee to ask our guide to stop.”

Amanda smiled in return, but it was hard not to worry when she saw such a look of fatigue on his pale face. Papa had never been a strong man, but for the last several months he’d taken more naps than usual and slept longer at night. She’d also noticed times when he had trouble catching his breath. At Amanda’s insistence, Papa had seen the doctor for a checkup before embarking on this trip. He’d returned home later that day, saying everything was fine and that Dr. Stevenson had given him permission to travel. To Amanda’s knowledge, Papa had never lied to her about anything, so she had no reason not to believe him. She figured he’d just been doing too much lately and that the tonic the doctor had given Papa would put the spring back in his step. Truthfully, Amanda was glad he’d decided to go west with her, because she would have missed him terribly if she’d come alone—not to mention having to deal with their uncouth, unfriendly guide. Still, Papa’s pallor and growing weakness concerned her.

As they rode, she focused on taking in the scenery. If she thought of other things, it helped her not to worry about Papa or the possibility of a hostile Indian encounter. Tucking in a piece of loose hair under her dark Quaker bonnet, she shuddered as a chill went through her body. Her slender arms ached, and her fingers could hardly bend from holding the reins so tightly. She’d ridden horses before, but not for this many hours at a time. Hopefully, as each day passed, she would become better adjusted to long hours in the saddle.

Looking around, it wasn’t hard to realize that they were far from home. Gone were the fertile farmlands and lush rolling hillsides, thick with trees. Here, it was practically treeless and flat, with grasslands and sagebrush. Steep bluffs rose out of the flats where the Great Plains merged with the Rockies. Amanda had never been this far west, and she could only imagine what Oregon Territory might look like.

She turned in her saddle and looked ahead at the two pack mules carrying all of their supplies. Harvey had said their names were Jake and Jasper. With the exception of her Bible and toilet articles, which she carried in the reticule tied to her saddle, everything Amanda owned and all their provisions were in the care of those mules.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harvey finally announced that it was time to stop for the night. They made camp in a small clearing by a wide stream. After stretching her tired, aching limbs, Amanda went down to the stream to wash up, while her father tended to his needs, and Harvey built a fire and put up a canvas shelter for them. Amanda didn’t look forward to sleeping on the ground, but at least they had several blankets to rest upon. And it would give her a break from the monotonous motion of the horse, not to mention the uncomfortable saddle.

Harvey, a rugged-looking brown-haired man in his early forties, said he preferred to sleep on a buffalo hide in front of the fire. He’d told Papa that he liked gazing up at the stars, but Amanda had a hunch the real reason Harvey chose to sleep outside was to guard their camp. If a wild animal or enemy Indians should come upon them, he’d be ready and waiting with his loaded rifle. Harvey also said he slept with one eye open so he could watch for bears. While Amanda would never consider using a gun herself, she felt a measure of comfort in knowing they had the protection of their guide.

Pulling her thoughts aside, Amanda dried her wet hands on her apron and began fixing their supper over the campfire. When they’d hired Harvey at Fort Laramie, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t much of a cook, so Amanda had readily agreed to fulfill that duty in order to see that they were properly fed. Tonight, she planned to make some corn bread and serve it with a hearty venison stew.

Her stomach growled noisily as she cut the dried meat and vegetables and placed them in the pot of water Harvey had set over the hot coals. When that was done, she glanced across the clearing to check on her father. He was seated on a large rock, Bible in his lap and head bowed as though he was praying. Amanda figured as tired as Papa was, he had probably nodded off.

He’s not getting any younger
, Amanda reminded herself. Papa would be fifty-one next month. They’d have to celebrate his birthday on the trail. She smiled, reflecting on how last year she had invited several friends over for supper to celebrate Papa’s fiftieth birthday. Nathan had been among those who had come.

Amanda gripped the sides of her dress.
There I go, thinking about Nathan again
. She grimaced.
I am making this trip to forget about him, and I need to keep my thoughts on other, more important things
.

Taking a seat on a log, Amanda thought about a middle-aged Indian woman she’d seen at the fort. She wished she’d had the chance to talk with her a bit and perhaps even give the woman a Bible. But Amanda was told that the Indians there were part of a Cheyenne tribe and spoke no English. If she could have communicated with the woman, Amanda would have explained that there were some white people, like her, who wanted to help the Indians. Then, too, if they could have talked to each other, perhaps the woman might have given Amanda some insights about the Indians and their customs. Going to the mission without being able to communicate with those she was planning to teach presented challenges; however, Amanda felt sure that by the time she and Papa reached Oregon Territory, the Spaldings would have begun educating the Nez Percé, and that at least some of them would understand a little English. At the very least, she would be able to help Mrs. Spalding with cooking and cleaning, which she’d been doing since she was a child. Although she’d written a letter to the Spaldings, letting them know she and Papa were coming to help out, they’d left New York before an answer had come. Even so, she felt sure the reverend and his wife would welcome their help.

Amanda’s thoughts turned to her mother and how she had died giving birth to Amanda. Papa had never remarried or shown any interest in another woman. He’d been devoted to Amanda since her birth, twenty-two years ago, and had made sure, under the tutorage of her aunt Dorothy, that she learned to cook, clean, and sew. Papa had told Amanda on more than one occasion that he wanted her to learn all these things, not just to provide for their needs, but so she could be a good wife someday.

Amanda wished she’d had the opportunity to meet her mother and get to know her, the way Papa had for the first four years they were married. But that was not to be. Papa had said Amanda got her beautiful flaxen-colored hair from Mama, but her blue eyes came from him. The only things Amanda knew about her mother were what Papa had told her. So in a sense, she did know her mother a little bit, although it wasn’t the same as if she’d been alive during Amanda’s childhood.

She cringed. Thinking about Papa’s marriage had drawn her thoughts back to Nathan. Had he and Penelope gotten married yet? If Nathan truly loved Penelope, then he surely would have made Penelope his wife by now. Nathan Lane! Would she ever quit thinking of him?

“Oh!”

At the sound of her father’s cry, Amanda leaped to her feet and rushed to his side. “Papa, what is it?”

Papa’s thin lips contorted as he pointed to his chest. “It—it hurts, right here.”

“I shall get Harvey.” Amanda, fearing the worst, started to turn, but his desperate plea stopped her from going after their guide.

“No! I must tell thee something,” Papa said, looking up at Amanda through glassy eyes.

Amanda went down on her knees beside him. “What is it, Papa?”

He blinked several times, as though trying to focus his thoughts. “Give me thy word.”

“My word on what, Papa?”

“Promise thou wilt go and teach the Indians about God.”

She placed her hand gently on his arm. “Of course, Papa. We shall both go and preach the Good News.”

Papa clutched his chest. “I should have told thee before but knew if I did, thou wouldst not have made this worthy trip.”

A sense of fear coursed through Amanda. She could barely breathe. “What hast thou not told me?”

“My heart is failing. The doctor confirmed what I already suspected when I went to see him before we left home.” He reached out a trembling hand and with shaky fingers stroked her cheek. “I need thy word that if I don’t make it, thou wilt go on alone.”

Tears sprang to Amanda’s eyes as she gripped her father’s cold hand. “No, Papa! No, I cannot!”

“Thou must,” he implored. “The Lord told me in a dream that this is His will for thee. There is nothing for thee in New York. Thy future lies in the west—among the Nez Percé people, and …” Papa’s words were halted as he drew in a shuddering breath. “My work is done here on earth, Amanda. It—it is time for me to be reunited with thy mother.”

“No, Papa, not yet!” Amanda clutched his arm, willing him to hang on. “I need thee. I cannot go on without thee.”

“Thou must. Promise me this, Amanda. I beg thee to give me thy word.”

Amanda nodded slowly as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Yes, Papa, I will go.”

Her words seemed to offer the comfort he needed, for he smiled slightly, and then his head fell forward onto his well-worn Bible.

“Papa! Papa!” Amanda screamed.

No response.

She placed her hand under his nose, but there was no breath. She felt no heartbeat in his chest. “No, Papa! No!” Despite her denial, Amanda knew her father was gone. What she didn’t know was how she would go on without him.

A
manda sobbed as she watched while Harvey dug a shallow grave in an area outside their camp and then placed her father’s body within it. As the sound of the digging echoed in her ears, she still couldn’t comprehend that Papa was gone.
He just can’t be dead
, Amanda told herself over and over again. It had to be a horrible nightmare that she would wake up from in the morning, and they would continue their journey west. But with each shovel of dirt that covered the grave, Amanda began to face reality. Papa’s heart had given out on him. The trip had been too much, and it was her fault. If only she hadn’t decided to embark on this journey, Papa would still be alive.
Or would he? Is it possible that Papa would have died even if we’d stayed in New York? If his heart was weak, Papa might not have survived no matter where we lived
.

“Would ya like to say a few words over your pa before we bed down for the night?” Harvey asked, jolting Amanda’s thoughts.

“What? Umm … Yes, I … I need to do that,” she said, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain her composure. She glanced at the log where Papa’s Bible lay and knew she ought to read some scripture. But before she could make a move, Harvey, as though reading her thoughts, went to get it.

When he returned, he handed her the well-worn Bible and said, “I ain’t no religious fella, but even I know that a man like your pap deserves a Christian burial.”

Amanda managed a quick nod, and with trembling fingers, she opened her father’s Bible and read from the twenty-third Psalm: “ ‘The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ ” Amanda paused and drew in a shaky breath. She was sure that Papa hadn’t been afraid of death, for he had died so peacefully. The Lord had been with Papa, offering comfort as he passed from this earth.

Now, as she stood looking at the fresh mound of dirt, she consoled herself with the knowledge that her father was no longer in pain and that he and Mama, after all these years, were finally together again.

“ ‘Thou preparest a table before me,’ ” she continued to read, as emotion clogged her throat, “ ‘in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.’ ”

Amanda closed the Bible, bowed her head, and prayed a simple prayer: “Heavenly Father, we commend my father’s spirit into Thy hands. I thank Thee for the short time I had with Papa. Now, I ask Thee to give me strength to go on without him. Amen.”

Amanda thought about her mother’s engraved head-stone, nestled between two maple trees in the graveyard behind their meeting place back home.
Papa should have been buried there by her side. He, too, ought to have a nice headstone. But then
, she reminded herself,
Papa’s spirit is not here—only his body, which will soon become one with the earth
. Knowing her father as well as she did, Amanda didn’t think he would mind that his place of burial had no marker.