Cameahwait’s frown deepened, like lines chiseled onto his face. “She is my sister, but I am the chief of my tribe. Without me, the Snake People would be lost and directionless. If it is possible for Sacagawea to come out of this unscathed, she’ll manage it on her own.”
Meriwether left, trying to be contented with the answer. But later, when he spoke to Clark about it, he muttered, “It is Sacagawea. I feel like I should go and rescue her myself.”
This drew a very odd look from his partner. “You do have more magic than anyone else on the expedition, and you have your spirit dragon. Who better for the task?” He smiled. “But are you sure it is a good idea, Meriwether? She’s gone to rescue her husband, and she is loyal to him.” His question had added layers of questions beneath the surface.
“He won her in a poker game.” Meriwether realized he sounded defensive.
Clark gave him an even odder look, then sighed. “That’s not an unusual form of marriage in these parts.” He let out a sigh. “In fact, in some ways it sounds better than courting a lovely young girl for a year, and from a great distance. But that makes the marriage no less valid. You see she is willing to risk herself for him. She must have some feelings for him.”
Meriwether shook his head. “Or maybe she just understands the stakes for the world. Sacagawea has been a member of our expedition for months. She helped us find food, she blazed paths for us and guided us through unfamiliar territory. It doesn’t seem right that we should just leave her alone to a dangerous expedition in an arcane place from which few return.” He sat down heavily, touching the blackened handle of his belt knife. “If we must rid ourselves of the dragon sorcerer before we can complete our expedition, we need to have her help. Sacagawea understands more about the magic of this region than either of us. Without her help, we will no doubt die in the battle—for nothing.”
“Surely the wizard Franklin would then dispatch another expedition, and another should that one fail,” Clark said. “He seemed a persistent sort.” He frowned at Meriwether a long time, then admitted, “Yes, I can see where we need Sacagawea, or at least where our mission will be easier with her. But how do you propose to follow her to some mythical land of the dead, where it is more likely that you’ll be killed in a trap. What good will it do me or the rest of the expedition, should you die?”
Meriwether did not want to add too many explanations, which he didn’t even admit to himself. Instead, he mumbled, “I might have to risk it anyway? If the only way we can complete our mission is to have Sacagawea back, then I must go and find her…wherever her spirit has gone, no matter how difficult the task.”
Clark seemed as unhappy with this idea as Meriwether felt. “Give it a couple days. Sacagawea might very well succeed at this without our help. Perhaps by tomorrow she will have returned with Toussaint’s spirit. Maybe we’ll find them both awake and breakfasting around the fire with the rest of their village.”
Meriwether agreed to wait two days, while villagers continued to care for Charbonneau and Sacagawea, and others took turns with the baby. But the next morning brought no such relief, and they could only keep feeding dribbles of broth between the pale lips of the two motionless forms. Meriwether employed water and honey, which he felt should sustain them, until he could go rescue her.
When she didn’t stir on the second day, he knew he had to do something.
Sacagawea looked as though she had shrunk, with dark circles around her sleeping eyes. She seemed near death, and Meriwether vowed that he could not let her die without trying to save her.
In the privacy of his own mind, he had always considered her one of the most fascinating, bravest and noblest women he’d ever met. Her manner might be strange, but she was worth a dozen of the beautiful, well-mannered ladies of Virginia. Those ladies would never have survived the simplest of tragedies and rigors that Sacagawea had suffered, nor would they have managed to find the joy she did in little Pomp, or even in exploring the land with the expedition. Even among rough men, she had held her own with such dignity that they had never harassed her. None dared treat her as less than anyone else on the expedition.
Meriwether admired her, perhaps more than he’d ever admired a woman in his life, save his mother. And he could not let Sacagawea die like this.
In the afternoon, he set aside in his tent the items he meant to take with him on the spirit journey, just as Sacagawea had taken the spear and bow. He chose his air rifle, as well as a bag with dried meat and nuts. He set aside his knife, and, after deliberation, his old army uniform, which he’d brought with him—because he’d thought that if he should die on the expedition, he wanted to be buried with dignity.
When he was ready, he went in search of Cameahwait.
He had tried to convince the chief of the Snake People to give him the recipe for the herbal potion that would send him to the world of the dead, but her brother said, “If you were to die, your comrades would hold it against me and my people. They would wreak havoc upon us.”
“Captain Clark has been informed of my intention, and I explained to him again that I do this of my own free will. He will know it’s not your fault.”
The warrior shook his head. “I have led my people through many tragic times. What a person says he will do, whatever reassurances he gives, often turns to rage when grief strikes. Should you not come back, and should your entire expedition perish at the hands of the dragon sorcerer, there will be other white men who come after you. How can you be sure they will understand? They will think the Shoshone killed you, and they will attack us without listening to our story.”
Dejected, Meriwether went in search of LaBiche, to use his services as translator for Dosabite. He hoped the shaman would see the more pressing problem, the threat to all the people from the great magic, though he did know the older man had shown hostility toward Europeans and toward the expedition’s goal. Maybe he would feel less responsibility toward men who were mere guests of the tribe. Meriwether didn’t know what else he could do.
LaBiche answered his summons, coming to him accompanied by an elderly Shoshone woman whose face was inexplicably familiar. The translator bobbed his head.
“Captain Lewis? Sir, this lady is Sacagawea’s grandmother, and she would like to speak with you.”
Intrigued, feeling his pulse race, he gestured them to the meager privacy of his own shelter. When she entered, the old woman cast a sharp glance at the things he’d prepared for the spirit journey he hoped to make. Her dark eyes showed understanding and approval.
She spoke in a whispery voice, and LaBiche translated, “She says she knows what you want to do. Her grandson told her what happened to Sacagawea, and the old mother has been looking at you, observing you. She knows you are a brave man, with a great power, and that you wish to rescue Sacagawea from the country of the dead.” The trapper looked very disturbed by the words he said.
“She is right,” Meriwether said, which did not reassure LaBiche at all. The interpreter seemed to be adding color to Meriwether’s motives. He insisted, “It is essential to this expedition that we have Sacagawea’s spirit eagle, her knowledge, and frankly her courage. If we are to confront the dragon sorcerer so that we are free to continue our journey, then we will need all the brave people we can find.”
“Yes, sir. I remember we voted,” LaBiche said. “The old grandmother says she can make you the herbs and the magic that will send you on the journey to the dead. She will make it possible for you to find and rescue Sacagawea.”
“I see,” he said, feeling weak with relief. “Thank her, and tell her that I plan to depart as soon as possible. Her granddaughter’s body only grows weaker with each day. I shall go inform Captain Clark, and you have her make the potion. We don’t know how long Sacagawea can last.”