Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,69
giving me the chance to look around.”
“I’m not going to sit here doing nothing. I’m going to the Menards’, and that’s that.” Connie went to get her satchel. “With or without you.”
Her mother chuckled. “Let me get a loaf of fresh bread for you to take to them.”
Connie and Tom arrived at Christine and James Menard’s house after a roundabout journey. They had chosen to ride on horseback since horses could travel where there were no roads, unlike a wagon. They’d hardly spoken on the road, and Connie worried that she’d upset Tom.
They dismounted and secured their horses, but before approaching the house, Connie took hold of Tom’s arm. “I’m sorry if I made you angry.”
“What?” He shook his head. “I’m not angry.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps I’d upset you by insisting I come along.”
“No, not really.” The edges of his lips rose slightly. “I’m used to your bossiness.”
“I just want to get to the truth as soon as possible, and I think we must all work together.”
“Hello there,” a man said, coming around the side of the house. “Can I help you?”
Connie stepped forward. “Do you remember me, Mr. Menard? I’m Adam and Mercy Browning’s daughter, Connie. I’ve returned after being gone for seven years. My friend Tom and I have been hired to make a record of the Indians at Grand Ronde.”
“I heard about that.” He smiled and ushered them into the house. “Welcome to our home. Your father is my good friend,” he told Connie. “He mentioned last week that you’d be coming to see us sometime. You can call me James.”
A beautiful Indian woman appeared from a back room. She had a small boy clinging to her apron.
“This is my wife, Christine, and our son, Ned.”
Connie soon learned that Christine and James were Clackamas Indians in their forties. Their house on the far east side of the reservation came with several hundred acres that they put up in hay each year, along with a small amount of wheat. They had three children—two were girls in their teens, and the boy was just three.
“Our girls are helping the nuns today,” James explained.
“My mother sent this bread,” Connie said, remembering to take the loaf from her satchel.
Christine took the bread. “You must thank her for me.”
Connie nodded. Her mind was ever on the rifles. “Are there any other houses nearby? I didn’t see any as we approached.”
“The Monadas are fairly close. They are Kalapuya. And there are other Clackamas, but not too close,” James explained.
“No other houses? Maybe something small that hasn’t been around long?” Tom asked.
James shook his head. “No. I’d know if there were.”
Connie liked the couple from the start. They remembered life before the tribes were moved to Grand Ronde and were eager to tell what they remembered. They had just married in 1856 and lived near the Willamette River when their tribe was forced to leave, but unlike many of the other Indians, they bore little bitterness.
“We love your mother and father, Connie,” Christine told her. “They were so good to us. When we had no food and everyone was starving, your father did what he could to bring in supplies. He didn’t ask for money either. He gave to the people without charging. The agent told him not to do that—that the government would provide.” She shook her head. “But they only sent flour and salt. No meat. Your people brought us cattle and sheep.”
“And chickens,” her husband said, smiling. “I like your mother’s fried chicken very much.”
Connie laughed and nodded with great enthusiasm. “So do I.”
“But my favorite is salmon,” James added. “Your father brought us baskets full of salmon. He saw us through in those early years.”
“The salmon were everything to us,” Christine explained. “When we lived on the Willamette River not far from the falls, my father was one of the best fishermen. He would lash long poles together and secured them under the large rocks. This let him go out over the falls at different levels, where he could catch fish with his net.” Her voice was filled with pride as she continued. “There was only one better fisherman, and that was my husband. He and my father had contests to see who could catch more salmon.” She smiled at James, and Connie smiled at Tom.
She hadn’t expected to catch him watching her, but his blue eyes captured her with such intensity that for a moment she couldn’t look away. What was he thinking? Was he worried?