Free The Claim by Jennifer L. Holm

William
had
written to Mr. Biddle.
    “Of course,” William said. “I thought we would survey that tomorrow.”
    “What piece of land did you show Mr. Biddle?” I asked.
    William’s eyes slid to mine. “Near the Chinook village. It is very well situated as a portage for timber.”
    “Near savages?” Mrs. Biddle gasped. “There are tepee villagesnearby?” Her voice rose an octave. “I thought you said this area was perfectly safe!”
    “Now, my dear,” Mr. Biddle began.
    “Savages!” Mrs. Biddle said again, and then whipped out her fan, waving frantically, patting her chest. “They’ll kill us. And eat us. I’ve read the news reports! I know what horrible animals they are!”
    “Mrs. Biddle,” I said with a light laugh. “They’re nothing of the sort—”
    William interrupted me as if I hadn’t even spoken. “I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Biddle, that it is only a temporary concern. It is the stated intention of Governor Stevens to move these Indians to a reservation.”
    Always in the past, William had been one to foment poor relations with the Chinooks. And always in the past, he had failed to persuade anyone in our small community of his wisdom in this matter. I felt confident any new attempt would fail as well. That is, until Mr. Biddle turned to William and said, “That seems a very sensible idea, William.”
    “It isn’t a sensible idea at all, Mr. Biddle,” I said.
    Mr. Biddle looked at me sharply.
    Father Joseph echoed my sentiment. “This is their home.”
    To my surprise, it was Mr. Hosmer who said, “But, Father, how can you hope to civilize these poor souls if they are permitted to continue in their wild ways?”
    Before Father Joseph could answer, I leaped in. “Please believe me when I say that the Chinooks who live here are the finest neighbors one could hope for.”
    “You give your opinions very freely,
young lady.
” Mr. Biddle made a decidedly disapproving sort of noise. “You forget yourself.”
    I blinked as if slapped.
    Now, it is true that back east it was considered very poor manners for young ladies, or any ladies for that matter, to discuss politics with men. But I had learned that many of the habits that ladies kept back east were of little use here on the frontier.
    There was a long moment of silence at the table.
    William wore a smug, superior look. Sally looked as if she rather wanted to burst into laughter, and the Hosmers seemed genuinely embarrassed by my behavior. But it was the expression on Mrs. Frink’s face that gave me courage. Mrs. Frink was most certainly a lady who spoke her mind. She gave me a small, encouraging smile and I took a deep breath.
    “Well, Mr. Biddle,” I began in a civil tone. “We have lived quite agreeably with the Chinook for several years. Why, Mr. Swan is a longtime resident of Shoalwater Bay, and I’m quite sure he can,
as a gentleman
, second my opinion.”
    Mr. Swan looked momentarily flustered and then said in a loud voice, “Miss Peck is quite right. We enjoy a good relationship with the Chinook. In truth, we owe much of our prosperity to their continued friendship.”
    “All this talk of savages is making me rather faint,” Mrs. Biddle said in a soft, protesting voice to her husband.
    Mr. Biddle shot me a look, as if I were at fault for his wife’s weak constitution. I wanted to tell him that she wouldn’t faint if she ate something!
    I stood up abruptly, clearing the plates for dessert.
    Back in the kitchen, Millie said, “That was some conversation you were having over there.”
    “
You give your opinions very freely,
” I mimicked as I angrily sliced the molasses pies onto plates.
    Millie’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe your pie will sweeten their tempers.” She started to pile the plates on her tray. “I’ll take care of the rest of the room if you get the head table.”
    I doubted very much that anything as simple as a pie would sweeten Mrs. Biddle’s temperament, or that of her husband. But Millie was correct