CHAPTER TWO
The Northwest Indian Country
July, 1840
It had been a long four months coming upriver on the steamboat,Trapper. But, Amelia had expected the lengthy trip and had brought along books, games and playing cards. The country around them, however, had been so different from any other, she had often found herself leaning on one of the steamship's balconies, looking out upon the bluffs and the unending prairie, which was often green under the summer sun. Indeed, reaching out toward the environment had seemed to help her leave her cares behind…at least momentarily.
Besides, mere card games had paled in comparison to the scenery that had surrounded her during the first part of the journey. To date, she had espied many deer, elk herds, wolves, and once she had seen a grizzly.
The bear hadn't frightened her. Oddly, watching it had caused her to feel closer tohim, to Gray Falcon. It had brought back to mind a story Gray Falcon had once told her about a grizzly bear and a Blackfoot child, and how the bear had protected the child, treating it as though it had been her own cub.
Amelia closed her eyes against the emotion swelling up within her. For five long years, she had nurtured the hope of returning to the West and being reunited with Gray Falcon. Truth was, every day since she'd returned to St. Louis, she had missed him and his calming influence over her; she'd also missed the West and the allure of the seemingly unending prairie.
But, now she had another more serious reason for returning to what she thought of as "the land of wonder."
Amelia sighed. Was her infatuation with Gray Falcon merely a result of experiencing a different culture, as her mother insisted? Did her love for Gray Falcon have nothing, really, to do with the young man, himself? Was this only her love of the Northwest and the freedom it presented? Her mother seemed to think so.
Yet, it was not Indian Country that filled her dreams; always, it was Gray Falcon. For five long years, she'd worried she might never see him again until it was too late for them to ever consider marriage between themselves.
However, circumstances were different now. Five years ago, he had been nineteen. He was a man fully grown now, and of marriageable age. What if she were to be reunited with him, but he had already fallen in love with another? If he had, her dreams would be destroyed and she would face a future of…
No, she wouldn't think of it. She had done all she could to keep their friendship alive, even though the distance between them had been great. She had been fairly regular about speaking to him with the mind-to-mind talk. But, he hadn't always responded back to her.
Her mother—and Gray Falcon, too—believed it wasn't love she felt toward him. But, she had always known better.
What her mother didn't know, and Amelia did, is that Gray Falcon had been there for her five years ago; he had counseled her through the anxiety she had felt over her sister's well-being; he had been there through her fear of her father's wrath against herself and her sister. Gray Falcon hadn't liked her "headstrong nature," it was true. He'd certainly made enough mention of it.
Yet, he had always treated her well, had always listened and had advised her wisely. He had even ensured the two of them were well chaperoned whenever she had come to his lodge all those years ago—to protect her reputation, he'd said.
Still, he had never sought her out. Always, it had been she who had gone to him for comfort, not the opposite. Even at fourteen, she had fallen for him, and hard.
How could she not? He was, and had always been, all she would ever want. Physically, he had been slim, tall and ridiculously good-looking with his long black hair and black eyes. And, he had always been kind to her. He had never really pushed her away, although he certainly had never hesitated to mention he found her a little too pesky, a little too bold and presumptuous.
She would always love him, but, like he said, any sort of relationship between them—except friendship—was impossible, especially now that…
She hated to think of what lay ahead of her. Indeed, whenever the thought of what was to come entered her thoughts, an instant feeling of sickness engulfed her.
But, she wouldn't think of those upcoming and dreary times. Not now. Not when she would seehimagain.
One problem, which she tended to push out of her thoughts, was the idea that she might hurt him if she put her real plans into action. However, he'd never pretended to be interested in her in any other way than as a silly pest. Still…
They were close—they had been so from the very start. And, they communicated to each other mind to mind. Didn't that mean something?
Amelia sighed. The worry about causing him harm bothered her and had done so ever since she had plotted what must be her present course of action.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, saying a silent prayer for herself and for him, asking the Lord to always protect him, even from her and from what had to be.
But, Lord, if there is another way around this mess, please show me what it is, and let that be what happens, instead.
Amen.
Opening her eyes, she looked outward at the glory of the grandiose prairie stretching out to the horizon. They were now on their last leg of the journey, having put the scenery and the problems of the lower part of the Missouri behind them.
Earlier, when the steamboat had pulled into port at Fort Union, she had known a terrible anxiety, fearful her father would discover her plans and thwart them. And, her fear had not been misplaced. After all, her father could have discovered what she was doing and dragged her off the boat.
But, nothing had happened. And, with the good Lord's blessing, Fort Union was behind her now. Perhaps her mother's influence and presence there at the fort accounted for the lack of what could have been an awful incident.
Now, having left Fort Union, the steamboat was pressing onward, heading slightly to the north, but, more appropriately, west. It was still early in the morning, and, as Amelia gazed northward, the sun was making its gradual ascent into the sky on her right. On this day, in this early part of the morning, the prairie seemed peaceful, and, as the wind blew her bonnet back from her face, the familiar gusts caught hold of her hair.
