"I am a Christian," Emma nodded.
At this, Grandpap harrumphed, but his daughter quickly silenced him. She turned back to Emma. "My son has a Christian wife?" Her tone was one of disbelief, though she obviously believed Emma's statement to be true. "Josiah is not such a person... but I am."
Emma was unable to conceal her surprise. "You? A Christian?"
"My husband was not a good man," explained Cora, "but he taught me of Jesus when he read stories from his thick book."
"He had a Bible?"
"Yes," nodded Cora, "but he 'lost' it after he said I was taking the stories from the book too seriously." Her eyes grew dark with the pain of past memories. "When my beauty faded, he left our bed, and found another wife."
Emma bit her lip. She prayed Josiah would never do anything like that to her.
"Josiah was a boy when I took him with me to return to my people. It was not good for him at my village, so he went back to his father." Cora's voice was matter-of-fact, though the pain remained in her eyes.
Silent, Emma didn't know what to say.
Cora looked at Emma curiously. "Do you have family?"
Emma sighed in a moment of unguarded honesty. "No, I only have Mr. Brown." When she realized how that must have sounded, Emma covered her mouth in embarrassment.
Instead of scolding, Cora's mouth parted in the slightest of smiles. "It is not good for you to be alone with my son. You will be happier with a child."
Emma blushed, for the subject of children seemed to come up with every Indian woman she came into contact with.
"You would like a child?" The question seemed to greatly interest Cora.
"I've always wanted a large family," admitted Emma, though she had intended to have it with a godly husband.
Hopefulness flickered behind Cora's eyes, and for a moment, Emma thought she was about to say something very important. Indeed, Emma had had that feeling ever since Grandpap and Cora's arrival. There was a deeper reason for their visit, and Emma had a strange hunch it was no accident that they were here while Josiah happened to be away.
Gathering her blankets around her shoulders, Cora stood up. "We must go."
Grunting in agreement, Grandpap tapped his pipe against the fireplace and then got to his feet. He gave Emma one last cursory glance before the two headed out the door.
There were no tender goodbyes, and no promises of future visits. Even so, Emma felt herself wishing that they had. She liked Cora.
Her visitors gone, Emma put the bar back over the door. The cabin was eerily quiet, making Emma realize all too much how she sorely missed the company of others. It felt good to talk to someone, even though that someone kept looking her over with an air of distrust. Emma thought Cora had warmed to her by the end, and hoped the woman would return for another visit.
"Please, God," prayed Emma, "please let her come back. Even if it's only for five minutes." Hearing the desperation in her own voice, Emma sighed heavily. She was pitiful. Pleading with God for five minutes of conversation with another human being. Josiah had only left yesterday, and already Emma was feeling as though it had been a week.
Settling beside the small shelf by the window to read her Bible, a verse from Proverbs dropped into Emma's heart: "The desire of the righteous shall be granted."
With grateful eyes turned upward, Emma knew she would see Cora again.
The hope of a second visit, kept Emma from feeling too lonely. God was a very present comfort to her spirit, and Emma knew that even if she never saw another human again, she would survive the solitude. Still, the anticipation of speaking to Josiah's mother again, gave Emma something to look forward to.
The next day, as Emma tended to the ponies, she kept a close watch on the trees surrounding the cabin for any signs of Cora and Grandpap. Emma wished she had invited them to come again while she had had the chance, but now all she could do was pray and wait.
The nickering of one of Josiah's ponies caused Emma to look up from where she was gathering firewood. Something moved near the trees, and her eyes caught sight of a deerskin clad Indian. Thinking it was Grandpap, Emma's heart beat with joy. Then she noticed the figure's shoulders didn't slightly hunch the way Grandpap's did, and her joy disappeared.
That
was not Grandpap!
Three more men wrapped in animal hides moved into view, and they nodded to the first Indian.
Firewood tumbled from Emma's arms, and she took a step backward in the direction of the cabin. Emma moved her shotgun from over her shoulder and ran as fast as she could toward the lodge, not stopping until she had reached the relative safety of its thick walls.
Breathlessly securing the shutters, Emma took a brave stance in the open doorway with her shotgun. The Indians were still in the distance, but Emma wanted them to know she was not helpless. Even so, she was shaking so hard, the sturdy rifle trembled violently in her hands.
Hoping she wouldn't have to duck inside and bar the door, Emma watched as the men nodded to each other and stared at the cabin. They made no attempt to come closer, and after several minutes, they left.
When the last Indian disappeared behind the trees, Emma quickly barred the door, unless their departure should mean a surprise attack. Something within her said this was silly, for if they had wanted to attack, they could have easily out-waited her. Maybe that was what they were doing. Maybe there was still someone out there, waiting for her to leave the safety of the cabin before pouncing on her.
Emma frowned. Only Josiah pounced. She remembered his surprise attack one night, when he had tackled the buffalo robe she was hiding under.
"Oh, where is he?" exclaimed Emma. "Where is Mr. Brown when I need him?"
Besides the fact that the cabin had been found, was the bigger concern that it had been found by Blackfoot Indians. From what Grandpap had said to Josiah, Emma understood that something bad might result from discovery... maybe even Josiah's death. Emma shuddered, trying to keep her thoughts from running too wildly.
For the remainder of the day, Emma kept inside, occasionally peering out through a crack in the shutters. Every time she checked, there was nothing but quiet.
When morning peeked through the cracks of the window shutters, Emma looked to see if the men had come back.
They hadn't.
Should she venture outside to feed the horses? They were making a fuss, and she didn't know how much longer she could put off their needs.
As she was wondering what to do, Emma was startled to hear the sound of someone knocking on the door!
Instead of rushing to open it, Emma hesitated. Josiah would be yelling at her by now, so it couldn't be him. Besides, this knock had a request to it, and not one of authority that expected to be obeyed.
Steadying her nerves, Emma cracked open the window shutter to see who it was.
"Cora!" cried Emma in delight. She quickly lifted the bar over the door, and invited her guest inside.
The Blackfoot woman had come alone this time, but Emma was so excited she didn't notice Grandpap's absence.
"The cabin has been discovered." The words fell from Cora's lips without emotion. Adjusting her blankets, she went to the table and sat down in the split-bottom chair she had used during her previous visit.
Emma felt faint, but reminded herself to keep trusting God. She couldn't understand why God had let such a thing happen, but had confidence that He knew what He was doing. Folding her trembling hands, Emma took the remaining seat at the table. "How did they find us?"
"I told them," Cora's chiseled face showed no signs of remorse or apology.
"I don't understand," puzzled Emma. "How could you do this to your son?"
Cora's eyes narrowed, though she didn't appear to be angry by Emma's question. "Do you believe I would kill Josiah?"
The frank question made Emma pause before responding, "I don't think so."
In spite of Emma's hesitation, there was no fear in her eyes. "Good," nodded Cora, "you trust me. You must stay in this lodge and not go out. You are being watched."
"I saw Indians looking at the cabin, yesterday," related Emma. "I didn't know if they were Blackfoot."
"They were," confirmed Cora. "They watch for my son's return. You will stay inside?"
"As much as I can," sighed Emma. "It'll be impossible to remain indoors all the time, but I'll make my trips as brief as possible."
With a satisfied nod, Cora offered no explanation for her actions. For someone who had purposely led her son's enemy to his door, she looked remarkably calm.
"Do not ask me why I am doing this," instructed Cora, seeing the question plainly in Emma's eyes. "It is for the best that you do not know everything."
"I don't know anything," Emma sighed.
The two women stared at each other, as if trying to guess what the other was thinking.
Feeling unequal to the task of understanding this Blackfoot woman, Emma decided there was only one thing left for her to do. "Will you stay for lunch?" she invited Cora. "I don't often have visitors. In fact, you're the first."
"Lunch?" Cora looked puzzled.
Emma pressed on, unsure why Cora looked so confused. "It's nearing the center of the day, and I haven't eaten anything yet. If you'll stay for lunch, I'll make stew."
"I had forgotten this was the white man's custom," Cora nodded in understanding. "I will eat lunch with you."
"Thank you," Emma's smile was sincere. It was a rare thing to enjoy the company of another woman, and it was made even better by the fact that this woman spoke English.
"My people eat when they are hungry, and not at set times of the day," explained Cora.
"I didn't know," smiled Emma, pouring water from her bucket into the kettle. "Mr. Brown eats breakfast, lunch, and supper, just like me."
"My son is a white man in red skin," Cora mused ironically. "He has never spoken of me to you?"
"Not since I've known him," replied Emma. "Until I met his grandpap, I had assumed all his close relations were dead."
Discouraged, Cora shook her head, her two long braids rubbing against the front of her deerskin dress. "I am dead to my son. He will not listen to my words, or to the words of my father." She gazed at Emma with an unspoken hope that made Emma strangely uncomfortable.
Once again, Emma had the nagging feeling this woman wanted something from her.
Preparing as appetizing a lunch as she could, Emma placed tough buffalo jerky in the kettle of water hanging over the fire. Taking some of her precious sage, Emma added it to the kettle to make a savory stew for her guest.
Cora quietly watched on, and then opened a pouch hanging at her side. She offered some of its contents to Emma.
"What is it?" asked Emma.
"You have not had pemmican?" Cora was troubled with Emma's ignorance, for pemmican was a staple of life among the Blackfoot. Not one to waste time, Cora promptly set about instructing her son's wife in the preparation of the food. "Grind dried buffalo meat and mix it with marrow and fat. Put the powdered meat into a skin, and pound it with chokeberries and birch sap that has been made into sugar. When it is dry, it will not spoil and keep you strong when there is little food."
