When Hope Springs New by Janette Oke

When Hope Springs New by Janette Oke

Author:Janette Oke [Oke, Janette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780871236579
Publisher: Bethany House
Published: 1986-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


EIGHTEEN

The Gift

Excited voices and many tramping feet awakened me. For a moment the haze of sleep kept me from focusing on where I was and what was going on around me, and then I remembered the devastating fire. We were all homeless and we were waiting for the men to return.

Like a bolt I was out of bed. The voices! They were men’s voices. Perhaps Wynn was back. I crawled carefully from my bed and peered out into the dawning new day.

All around me men were meeting with their families, and the reunions turned into excited talk. Wives were weeping and clinging to their husbands, trying to answer questions that seemed to have no answers.

I emerged slowly, made an attempt to smooth down my messy hair and looked about the campsite for a glimpse of Wynn. He was nowhere to be seen. Tears stung my eyes. I turned to crawl back to my warm bed when a male voice called to me.

“White woman!” he shouted. I froze in my tracks. Slowly and reluctantly I turned to face him, and I’m sure my face was even whiter than normal.

I did not speak. The man before me was the village chief, and one, especially a woman, did not address him. That much I knew about tribal ethics.

He approached me, his face void of expression. I did not know what he intended to do. Perhaps he had decided that it was due to the ill-placed garden that the curse of the forest fire had come upon them.

I stood where I was, as custom demanded—with my eyes lowered.

I did not look up even when I saw the pair of brightly beaded moccasins standing not three feet from me.

Oh, dear God, I prayed silently. Bring Wynn back quickly. Surely he will respect the white man’s law—and the lawman—even if he does blame the lawman’s wife.

The chief reached a long, buckskinned arm toward me. I shuddered. I had seen it done before. To sentence the condemned the chief placed a hand on the head of the accused and pronounced his judgment.

But the hand did not travel to my forehead. Instead, it rested lightly on my shoulder.

“You do good,” the strong voice declared loudly enough for the whole tribe to hear. A shiver ran all through me. I scarcely could believe my own ears.

“You do good,” he stated again. “You save women and children—our wise old ones and our sick.”

I shut my eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks.

The brown hand dropped from my shoulder. I waited but he did not move away.

“What you want?” he asked me.

I was confused. I didn’t understand what he meant.

My eyes lifted involuntarily to study his face. “What great chief mean?” I stammered in his native tongue.

“Horses? Furs? I give it you.”

And then I understood. The pride of this man would not allow him to be indebted to anyone. In his thinking, my saving the village had incurred a large debt. He must pay that debt or be shamed in the eyes of the people.



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