The Way of Love - Tracie Peterson Page 0,14

nodded and extended her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.” To both men’s surprise, she spoke in Nez Perce.

The old man’s face lit up, and he replied in kind. “You speak my tongue. How can this be?”

“I can speak numerous dialects. I learned as a girl. My uncle Alex has a dear friend who is Nez Perce, and when he visited, I’d ask him to give me lessons.”

“I’m very glad to meet you,” Ben replied, still smiling. “I seldom hear my tongue spoken anymore, and never so beautifully.”

Andrew couldn’t help but pipe up at this. “I speak to you all the time.” He saw the surprise on Faith’s face. “I, too, speak several languages, including French, Spanish, and Chinook Wawa, or Jargon, if you’d rather.” The latter was the trade language among the Indian nations.

Miss Kenner nodded. “That’s marvelous. I speak those as well. We three can tell many secrets, in multiple languages.”

Andrew frowned but raised a hand to scratch his beard and hide his reaction. Hopefully Miss Kenner hadn’t noticed. Secrets were always dangerous to tell, and he knew far too many to be comfortable with such an idea.

“It is best to guard the secrets,” the old man said, sounding a bit sad. “There is much trouble in this land.” He slipped from the wheelhouse without another word.

“He’s right, of course,” Miss Kenner agreed.

“He usually is.”

Miss Kenner seemed deep in thought. “The newspaper this morning referenced the trouble with the Utes and Shoshone last year while expanding on the current problems with Victorio and his Apaches in the Southwest. But while Victorio is a fierce leader, he is mainly trying to keep his people from being forced onto the reservation, where they will have to live with their enemies. No one wants to live with their enemies.”

“The same could be said for the whites with the Indians.”

“But the Indians don’t have to be the enemy of the whites,” Miss Kenner protested.

“But that’s the way it’s been seen for decades, even centuries.” Andrew knew his thoughts weren’t lost on her.

“True, but that doesn’t make it right. Doing the wrong thing over and over will never turn it into the right thing. We need to find a way to make it so that the whites and Indians can live together.”

He smiled. “You think you and I could just sit down and figure that out, do you?”

“I meant a collective we. If this government and all the peoples, no matter the color of their skin, would work together, we could resolve this warring mentality. My fellow students at the medical college feel the same. We want to help in whatever way we can. I’ve even written to my folks about the desire to hold lectures to educate people. I think education is key. Just imagine if we could get everyone working together.”

He shook his head. “I’d like that more than you can imagine, but it’s never going to happen. No matter how hard we try.”

“Why not?” Miss Kenner seemed genuinely confused.

“Because each side cherishes their differences enough to refuse to yield them. The whites don’t want to get along with the Indians. They want to eliminate them. Whether that means kill them or force their assimilation, they don’t want Indians, with their cultural ways and different languages and dress. They want replicas of themselves.”

Miss Kenner considered this a moment and nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you are right for the vast majority.”

“Sadly, I know I am. I’ve heard the talk up this river and down. I’ve heard it from Oregon’s ports to California’s.”

“Then we must seek a higher power to resolve it. I believe God would have us live together in peace. The New Testament speaks about there no longer being Jew and Gentile, so why not have it no longer be an issue of white or Native?”

Andrew appreciated her unwillingness to give up. “I’m not sure God is listening anymore.”

“Then we must pray all the harder. Like nagging children seeking their father’s attention.” She straightened and gathered her things. “We must pray without ceasing and come to Him all the more humbled and yielded in obedience. But we must never stop seeking His help, because I know He hears us. I know He cares.”

Faith was glad to have followed up on her stitching job. She told herself it was that alone that made her feel so happy. She tried not to remember the way her heart beat a little faster when Captain Gratton smiled or how he

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