Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,42

the Indians at ease. Even though the government demanded they speak English, Father Croquet allowed this common Indian language that was spoken among the many tribes.

At one particularly ramshackle home, Papa dismounted as a half-dozen children came running. “Tell us a story!” they squealed. “Tell us about baby Jesus.”

Connie was barely dismounted when her father sat down in the dirt, and the children followed suit. She smiled as they began to fish in his pockets and produced peppermint sticks.

“Oh my, how did those get in there?” he said, as if caught by surprise.

The children giggled and again pressed for a story.

“You know Jesus didn’t remain a baby. He grew up to be a strong man.”

Connie joined her father and the children on the ground. The children looked over at her, and she smiled. She greeted them in Chinook Wawa. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”

One little boy, his dark eyes wide, gave her a nod.

“Children, do you know who this is?” Papa asked.

Connie knew they wouldn’t. She’d been gone longer than they’d been alive. Tom sat on the ground beside her.

“This is my daughter, Connie, and her friend Tom,” her father said. The children gave her brief shy smiles and held their peppermint sticks a little closer. Connie might have laughed if not for the very serious way they regarded her. “They have come to learn about you and how your people lived. But first, we’re going to talk about Jesus and how He lived.”

Connie listened as her father told the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. The children were mesmerized. They questioned her father as to how this could be. They were used to the fish their parents served. There weren’t any fish big enough to feed that many people. Her father explained that Jesus could make the fish big enough that by the time the disciples gave fish and bread to everyone, there were still basketfuls left over.

When he finished, he prayed and blessed the children. Connie felt tears in her eyes and quickly wiped them away while the children still had their heads bowed. She didn’t want to upset them by crying, but it touched her so much to see her father sitting there, loving them as if they were family. Of course, in so many ways, they were.

As the noon hour approached, Papa headed them back toward their house. They were all getting hungry, and although several of the Indians had invited them to share their table, her father declined. He told them he would come another time when he could bring something to share, and that Tom and Connie had to attend to important things.

Connie was impressed how Papa knew just the right things to say to keep from insulting the people willing to share their meager fare. Papa was a great diplomat when it came to working with the Indians. If the government would only pay attention to that, they’d know he could never do anything to harm the people.

They stopped at the small sutler’s store. Most of the soldiers had been removed from the immediate area, but the store remained and served the reservation. Here the Indian men could get tobacco, and the women purchased sugar. The Indians had developed quite a sweet tooth, and sugar was one of the most-sought-out commodities. Connie remembered how her mother would lay in a supply just before Christmas and make candy for each of the families. It wasn’t an easy feat, but she was determined to bless each home with her offering. After a while, Mama’s sisters learned of this and started sending big packages of their own homemade treats to share. The Indians looked forward to them each year.

“I’ll wait with the horses,” Connie told her father and Tom. The men nodded and went into the building.

Connie had seen a group of Indian men gathered beside the store near the well pump. They were speaking quite intently, and she wondered if there were plans afoot. She pretended to water the horses and strained to hear their conversation.

“They will come tonight. We’ll be there at the bend to meet them.”

She frowned when another of the men replied. She couldn’t make out any of his words. She drew closer to the corner of the store.

“Are they bringing whiskey?” one of the other men asked.

“. . . and the . . . too much now.” The man gave a low laugh. “We will dance.”

Connie frowned. That made no sense. She sighed and tried to move closer. At the