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.
*
