Candace McCarthy (2 page)

Rebb looked surprised. “Why?”

“The woman,” Daniel stated. “What woman in her right mind would willingly come to live in this godforsaken territory?” When his friend shrugged as if he didn’t have
a reply, Daniel smiled grimly. “None, at all. That’s why this woman’s gonna be trouble.”

“Is Mr. Trahern always so rude?” Amelia asked Jack Keller as she and her father walked with him toward the trading post across the street. She had a mental vision of the blacksmith—blond hair that glistened in the firelight, symmetrical features that caught and held one’s attention: a straight nose, eyes as blue as the clear azure sky, and a mouth that was perfectly formed.
And his arms.
She blinked. She couldn’t forget how they moved as he worked.
Strength and purpose,
she thought, stunned by her thoughts and the odd little tingling she felt along her spine. She tensed.

“Daniel?” Jack echoed with an odd expression. “He’s not normally rude.” He looked at her and grinned. “Must be the weather.”

His tone and the look on his face made Amelia relax with a chuckle. “You’re teasing me,” she said.

He nodded, and his teeth flashed as he widened his grin. “Part of my charm, I’m afraid.”

“Charm apparently lacking in your friend, the blacksmith,” she replied dryly. Jack didn’t deny it, so Amelia figured it must be true. “He doesn’t like women much, does he?” She frowned. “Or is it just me he doesn’t like?”

“You?” Jack shook his head. “Surely not. Daniel’s just in a surly mood.”

“Does he have a mood often?”

“Only when he sees someone new at the mission,” the man told her.

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t agree with their work.”

“Why?”

Jack opened the door, and Amelia entered the man’s building and looked around. Her father followed right behind her. “It’s a long story,” Jack answered.

Amelia fought against satisfying her curiosity about

Daniel Trahern and studied her surroundings instead. The room housed a collection of furs and tools and trinkets. There were dishes and bowls, fabric and food items, all placed in some haphazard order. Squash, herbs, and other dried vegetables hung from the rafters above. Hats hung on wall pegs, and Amelia spied a pair of moccasins on the floor next to an old pair of leather boots. She wrinkled her nose as she checked along the back wall. The air inside the building was musty but not wholly unpleasant, because of the fragrant herbs. She noted all this and more; yet, still, in the forefront of her mind lingered thoughts of Daniel Trahern.

“What bothers Mr. Trahern about the missionaries’ work?” her father asked, much to Amelia’s relief.

“He doesn’t like the way the whites are trying to change the Ojibwa. The missionaries as well as the government want to civilize the savages, only Daniel thinks their idea of civilizing means taking away the Indians’ freedom and their land.”

“And is he right? Is the government trying to take their land?”

Jack shrugged. “Could be. Each month more settlers come from back East. The settlers don’t want to share the land nor do they want to acknowledge the Indians’ way of life or their right to live here.”

“And I remind him of the injustice to these Indians?” Amelia asked. She frowned. She found the man’s logic incredible.

“You remind him of that and other things,” Jack said.
He quickly changed the subject by showing the Dempseys several items he had for sale.

While Jack Keller and her father worked out a deal for the supplies, Amelia walked about the trading post, inspecting items for trade and sale, and fighting thoughts of the blacksmith. She couldn’t put him out of her mind. His image returned again and again to annoy her.

“He took one look at me and decided I’m the enemy,” she murmured beneath her breath. And she got madder by the minute. He didn’t know her or her father; yet, he’d been quick to judge them after one brief meeting.

Amelia scowled. How dare Daniel Trahern sit in judgment of her. She had come to assist her father, a doctor with only the best intentions … despite what the blacksmith believed.

The mission had been built on a river and within distance of the rugged shoreline of a beautiful huge lake. There were five residences, a church, the infirmary, and a gathering hall, made from sandstone and set in a forest clearing.

As her father steered their wagon toward the largest structure, Amelia took stock of her surroundings. They had come all the way from Baltimore, through harsh weather and good, by water, rail, and land … over rugged country, flatland, and hills. Finally, they had reached their destination.

John Dempsey had wanted this change in his life. Amelia had come along to look after her father. They’d left family in Maryland—Amelia’s sister Rachel and Amelia’s aunt, Bess, John’s sister. Amelia’s mother had died when her girls were young. The two little girls had been raised by their father and Aunt Bess.

When John had made his decision to leave Baltimore, Amelia had chosen to go, while her sister had elected to stay behind with Aunt Bess. Rachel was younger, more beautiful, and of marriageable age. When Amelia left, Rachel had been enjoying herself in Baltimore with a series of eager-to-please beaux. Amelia was plain compared to Rachel. She had lost more than one beau to her younger, more beautiful sister. Amelia had nothing to keep her in Baltimore: no beaux, no husband, no work. When her fa-
ther had announced he was heading west, Amelia couldn’t find any reason why she should stay.

As her father assisted her from the wagon, Amelia wondered how Rachel was doing. Had she found a husband yet? Or a steady beau? It hadn’t seemed that Rachel would ever be satisfied with only one young man. Had she finally found the right one?

Amelia studied her surroundings as she waited while her father checked the supplies in the back of the wagon. A young man came out to greet them as her father straightened and returned to her side.

“John Dempsey?” The man smiled at them both and offered a hand to her father. After shaking John’s hand, he turned to his daughter. “Miss Dempsey, it’s a pleasure to have you here. My name is Allen Whitely. I’m the minister in charge. I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you decided to come to our mission.”

Amelia studied the young man with surprise. He was the minister?

“It’s our pleasure to be here,” her father said. “I was pleased to hear from your brother, my good friend James Whitely. He said you needed a doctor, but he wasn’t ready to leave the city yet. He knew I needed a change, so he asked me.”

Allen smiled. “How is James?”

“Well, but busy. He’s taking over the care of my patients in Baltimore.”

“You must be hungry and tired after your journey,” Allen said. “Come and I’ll show you the infirmary and your living quarters.”

The Reverend Whitely led the way across the yard to a smaller building with an extended roof over the entrance. John Dempsey looked at it approvingly. Amelia was reserving judgment until after she’d seen the inside.

The interior was dark after entering from outside. As Amelia’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, Allen Whitely proceeded to explain what each room was as they walked through it.

“This front area is the infirmary. As you can see, there is a small alcove right inside the entrance for waiting patients. This back area,” he said, gesturing as he spoke, “has a cabinet for supplies and two beds for the very ill.”

Amelia, better able to see, noted the work area and started to envision where she would put her father’s instruments and supplies.

“Beyond this room, through that door,” Allen said, “is your living area. There are two bedrooms, a small parlor area, and a kitchen/dining area in the very back.” He looked apologetic as he spoke. “It’s not spacious, I’m afraid.”

“It will do nicely,” Amelia said with a smile. “Thank you.” The young man grinned, relieved.

“Miriam Lathom, one of our missionaries, can help you when needed. Miriam has some knowledge of the area’s herbs and plant life. If you need a particular ingredient for your medicine, Miriam can find it for you. Also, she understands some of the Chippewa language, and may be able to help you with your Indian patients.

“To tell you the truth,” he continued, “the Chippewa have a great knowledge and skill of healing, so you may not have many Indian patients. Those who come will do so simply because they are too far from their home for treatment. There is an army fort about a day and a half’s ride from here. It’s likely you will have some patients from there … then, of course, there are those of us who live here at the mission. You are our only source of medical help. You may get problems from everything from
something simple like a splinter or insect bite to a more severe injury like a severed arm.”

John Dempsey nodded and asked a few questions; Amelia barely heard the two men’s conversation as she wandered about the living quarters, envisioning ways to make the starkness of the place more livable.

“If you need any tools,” the good reverend said, “there is a blacksmith shop about a half hour’s ride from here. Daniel Trahern can make anything you want; he is a skilled craftsman. This mission is filled with hinges, tools, and other articles he made. If you decide you need something made or repaired, let me know, and I’ll send one of my men to take you. There’s a trading post there as well.”

Amelia’s attention had caught as soon as she’d heard the word
blacksmith.

“Actually, we just came from there,” her father was saying. “We had a problem with our wagon. Mr. Trahern was gracious enough to fix it for us.”

“Gracious, my foot,” Amelia muttered beneath her breath.

“Excuse me?” Allen asked.

Amelia forced a smile. “Nothing really. I’m sure we won’t need a thing.”

The young man nodded. “Well, after you get settled, you might think differently. I just wanted you to know that we’re not totally isolated out here. We can get supplies and we have the services of a blacksmith.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “I’m sure we’ll be happy here.”
Over my dead body will I go to that iron-hearted Trahern man for help!

It was evening, and Daniel was done at the forge for the day. He had cooked supper and cleaned up the dishes.
This next hour would be his favorite time with Susie before he tucked her in bed for the night. It was their special time together, when Susie would sit on his lap and he would tell her stories. In the summer, they’d sit outside under a starry sky, and in the winter, before the fireplace in the main room of the cabin.

“Pa?” a soft voice called.

Daniel glanced toward a bedroom doorway and saw seven-year-old Susie. He smiled. “All ready for a story?” She beamed as she nodded. “Which one shall it be?”

“Tell me about Black Hawk’s great bear hunt.”

“Shall we sit outside or in?”

“Inside,” she said.

He pulled a chair out from under the dining table. Once seated, Daniel patted his lap, and Susie climbed up and made herself comfortable within his arms.

“As you probably remembered, Black Hawk was just a boy when he went on his first hunt …” In a deep voice, Daniel told the tale of how his Ojibwa friend had killed his first bear, a great beast that stood up on its hind legs and roared when Black Hawk shot an arrow into the animal’s hindquarter.

“And there began the chase. Black Hawk had gotten separated from the rest of his hunting party …” Daniel went on to describe how the angry bear had chased the young brave, until Black Hawk had found a hiding place where he could prepare his bow and arrow for his next shot. “Then, he left his hiding place to face the bear. While the bear roared at him, Black Hawk shot another arrow. This time he hit the bear’s neck.” Daniel saw Susie’s rapt expression and smiled. “You like hearing about Black Hawk, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I like Black Hawk. He’s always nice to me.”

Daniel smiled. “Because he’s your friend.”

“Tell me what happens next,” Susie urged.

Daniel went on to finish the story, which ended in Black Hawk’s great victory over the bear. He explained how the people of Black Hawk’s village had called the brave a true warrior. “Because of his bravery, Black Hawk was deemed a man, and everyone within the village came to respect him.”

As he described the celebration in the Ojibwa village, he saw Susie’s head nod. He continued the telling in soft tones. When he saw that she was sleeping, he ended the tale and stood with the little girl in his arms.

He put her to bed in the back bedroom, covering her with a blanket which he tucked tightly around her. Then he studied her with a tender smile for several minutes before leaving. She was seven, four years older than she’d been when Jane was kidnapped. He was pleased to note that Susie was finally past having nightmares. She had become more open and loving as the horror of what she’d seen on that terrible day faded with the passing of time.

As he stared down at Susie, he saw how much she resembled her mother. She had Jane’s blond hair and fair skin. She had Jane’s blue eyes and her smile.

Susie was Daniel’s niece, not his daughter, but he had no objection to the child calling him “Pa.” He was more like a father than her own had ever been. Susie’s father hadn’t been present at, or even nearby, his daughter’s birth. In fact, the man had come home only twice during the first three years of Susie’s life. An officer in the US Army, Daniel’s brother-in-law had given little thought to his wife and child. It had been Daniel who had been Jane’s rock when she needed one, staying near all through Jane’s delivery of Susie.

After the death of his wife, Pamela, Daniel had given
up his home and gone to live with his pregnant sister, where he’d remained until the day the Indians had attacked. Finding Susie alive beneath Jane’s bed had been a godsend, but Daniel still hadn’t given up the hope that someday he would find his sister and reunite Jane with her child. Since Richard, Jane’s husband, hadn’t come home for a long time before the attack, Daniel had no choice but to assume that the man had died, killed in the line of duty.

Daniel had taken Susie to the settlement at Michili-mackinac in the Michigan Territory, where the first blacksmith shop had been available to the Indians. He’d worked with two other men, making weapons, household items, and other metal objects wanted by both the Indians and the whites. When word reached the settlement that the US government had promised to open and maintain two more shops, Daniel had left to set up a new shop in the northern part of the Wisconsin Territory. He and Susie settled near Jack Keller’s trading post, which had been there for less than a year. Jack had been glad to welcome the blacksmith and the little girl. He was grateful for the company and enchanted by Daniel’s niece. The men became quick friends, then later, they regarded each other as family. When Rebb Colfax showed up at the blacksmithy one day, sent by the government with a load of firewood for Daniel’s forge, he was invited into the Keller and Trahern’s family circle.

There was a good relationship between the three men and the little girl. When the missionaries came with business for all three men, they were welcomed and assisted as they adjusted to this rugged life. But as time passed and more settlers moved into the area, most of them within a day’s ride from the trading post, Daniel realized what the government was trying to do with the help of
the settlers and the missionaries. Daniel’s opinion of all of them fell, and he became a champion for the Indians who had become his friends.

As he left Susie’s room and headed to his own, Daniel thought of John and Amelia Dempsey and what their arrival would mean to the Indians, especially his friend, Black Hawk, an Ojibwa war chief.

John Dempsey had claimed to be a physician. A discussion with Jack after the pair left confirmed that the man had purchased supplies that only a doctor might need. And he had a medical bag, which Jack saw when he’d helped load their wagon with supplies.

Daniel believed John Dempsey was who he said he was, but the daughter Amelia … He had a mental image of sable brown hair tucked back in a knot at her nape … brown eyes in an unforgiving face, and pink lips that looked too full and too sweet to belong to a pious woman.

Amelia Dempsey had told Jack she thought he was rude. Had he been rude? Daniel wondered. No, he hadn’t been rude, he decided. Just cautious and a mite unfriendly, because he didn’t want to encourage them to stay.

The doctor’s daughter reminded him too much of his late wife Pamela. Not in looks, for Pamela’s coloring had been much darker than Amelia’s. The similarity came in their behavior. Amelia was a woman who considered men like himself inferior. She was a woman like Pamela who teased a man and played with his affections until he was hooked and well on his way to hell. He’d managed to put Pamela from his mind; he would do the same with Amelia Dempsey.

“Go home, Miss Amelia,” Daniel murmured as he stripped off his shirt, then tugged off his breeches. “Go home where you belong and leave us and the Indians to live in peace.”

* * *

Miriam Lathom was a dark-haired young woman with kind eyes. When she arrived at their door the morning after their arrival, John and Amelia took to her immediately. She had a soft voice and a graceful way of moving. Her face could have belonged to an angel; it had a glow that seemed to come from the inside. While her features radiated warmth, her manner would calm even the most disturbed soul, Amelia thought.

There was much that needed to be done to make the infirmary and the back rooms more livable and patient-ready for Dr. Dempsey’s work. Miriam came each day to help as Amelia unpacked and arranged her father’s instruments and tools, and attempted to make the barren back rooms into a home.

As the Reverend Whitely had said, Miriam knew all the places to find herbs and other medicinal plants that grew wild in and around the mission. The two women spent an entire afternoon roaming through the forest, identifying and gathering medicinal plants.

Three days after their arrival, Amelia saw her father’s first patient at the infirmary. It was a young woman, a missionary wife. She had burned herself while cooking when the grease from a cook fire had popped and splattered across her hand. It wasn’t a serious burn as far as burns go, but Dr. Dempsey treated it carefully, because even the most simplest injury could fester if not tended properly. The woman was pregnant, which meant careful monitoring of the wound, as John Dempsey wanted no injury to the mother to endanger either woman or child.