had taught her to make. The infusion contained vinegar and herbs.
“What’s that?” the captain asked.
She smiled. “It’s better than soap for cleaning out a wound. I carry it everywhere.”
Once her things were gathered and placed where she could get to them easily, Faith cleaned her needles and silk and then started cleaning the long gash in the captain’s arm. The cut was about four inches long and deeper at the point of entry.
“What was the fight about?” she asked, hoping to keep the captain’s mind on something other than the sewing she was about to begin.
“You’ve probably already figured that out.”
“I heard the part about the man not wanting to work on the same boat as an Indian. He ought to be grateful he has a job. Nevertheless, his opinion seems to match up with most folks’. Sad though that may be.” She put some gauze on part of the wound to absorb the steady flow of blood.
“So you don’t mind being on the same boat with a ‘dirty Injun’?”
Faith smiled. If he only knew. “I didn’t think the man was particularly dirty, and a person can hardly be blamed for their heritage, although others would disagree with me on that account.” She picked up her needle and paused over the open end of the wound. “I’m going to start sewing.”
“Then get to it.” His impatience was clear. “Denny will have us all the way to Milwaukie before you finish.”
Faith stuck the needle into his arm. He jumped, and she smiled. “Sorry. I tried to warn you.”
“You are an aggravating woman,” he said between clenched teeth.
“I’ve heard that before. Usually from ill-tempered men.” She tied off the first stitch and continued to the second. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Faith Kenner. And you are?”
“Andrew Gratton. Captain of the Morning Star.” He was a little calmer.
“I’m pleased to meet you. Honored, really.”
“Why?”
“Because few men would stand up for an Indian. I find that admirable.”
“You do?” He looked surprised.
She tied off another stitch. “I do. I believe all people have value.”
“Most whites don’t see Indians as people.”
Faith shrugged. “That’s their mistake.” She moved the gauze and continued her stitching. “I have to have compassion on them as well. Perhaps the man who cut you lost family to Indians. I have no way of knowing, but I do know that hate is a powerful adversary. It poses as a friend, or at least a sympathizer, but it always leads to destruction. I’m always glad when I meet a man or woman who thinks otherwise.”
“As a Christian man, I am called upon to love others as Christ loved them.” He raised his gaze to hers.
Faith momentarily lost herself in his dark brown eyes. The anger that was there earlier had been replaced with something else. She realized she was forgetting herself and got back to work. “My faith in God is important to me as well. I was raised with folks who shared the gospel with the Tututni people on the Rogue River. I grew up with them and had many friends there, and I believe God has given me a gift of healing. I would like to work with the Indians again one day.”
“So you think you’re gifted?”
“I do. I have cared for a great many patients.”
“Ever lost one?”
“Yes.” She thought of the dozen or so she’d attended at death. “Usually they were old, but there were a few who went well before they should have. Most of those were accidents, but there was a case or two of disease that was just too far gone.” She pushed those sad thoughts aside. “But overall, when my patients are obedient and do as I direct, they heal quite nicely.”
“I suppose only time will tell if that’s the case.” The gruffness in his voice had returned.
Faith smiled. The captain was so easy to tease. “I generally get few complaints.”
He grunted at the next stitch. “Tell me more about your upbringing. It sounds unusual.”
“It was. We lived along the Rogue River in the south coastal region of the state. The Tututni were a peaceful people and lived in these wonderful houses they dug halfway down into the earth. I thought them such great fun. You had to crawl down a little ladder to go into the house.” She told him about the school they had for the children and the games she learned to play. “Then the Rogue River Indian wars began, and many of my friends were killed. We had to leave the area.